IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL 


• 


BY 


ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

AUTHOR   OF 

'JOEL:  A  BOY  OF  GALILEE;"  "THE  STORY  OF  THE  RESURREC- 
TION;" "Bio  BROTHER;"  "THE  LITTLE  COLONEL." 


CINCINNATI:  CURTS  &  JENNINGS 

NEW  YORK:  EATON  &  MAINS 

1896 


COPYRIGHT 

BY  CURTS  &  JENNINGS, 
1896. 


TO  THE  EFWORTH  LEAGUE. 


What  Paul  was  to  the  Gentiles,  may  you,  the  Young 
Apostle  of  our  Church,  become  to  the  Jews.  Surely,  not  as 
the  priest  or  the  Levite  have  you  so  long  passed  them  by  u  on 
the  other  side." 

Haply,  being  a  messenger  on  the  King's  business,  which 
requires  haste,  you  have  never  noticed  their  need.  But  the 
world  sees,  and,  re-reading  an  old  parable,  cries  out:  ""Who 
is  thy  neighbor  ?  Is  it  not  even  Israel  also,  in  thy  midst  ?" 


2229442 


fcnowest  tbou  wbat  argument 

life  to  tbB  neighbor's  creeo  bas  lent. 

— EMERSON. 


4 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE, 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA, 23 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  "LOOKOUT," 43 

CHAPTER  IV. 
AN  EPWORTH  JEW, 65 

CHAPTER  V. 
"TRUST," 86 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Two  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  LANE 105 

CHAPTER  VII. 
JUDGE  HAU<AM'S  DAUGHTER,  STENOGRAPHER,    .   .115 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  KINDLING  INTEREST 130 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 
CHAPTER  IX. 

A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND, 145 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY, 163 

CHAPTER  XI. 
"You  KIPPUR," 186 

CHAPTER  XII. 
DR.  TRENT, 189 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL, 220 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
HERZENRUHE, 241 

CHAPTER  XV. 
ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE, 261 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  "WATCH-NIGHT"  CONSECRATION, 275 


SILENT  KEYS, 297 


IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE. 

T  was  growing  dark  in  the  library, 
but  the  old  rabbi  took  no  notice  of 
the  fact.  As  the  June  twilight 
deepened,  he  unconsciously  bent 
nearer  the  great  volume  on  the  table  before  him, 
till  his  white  beard  lay  on  the  open  page. 

He  was  reading  aloud  in  Hebrew,  and  his 
deep  voice  filled  the  room  with  its  musical  in- 
tonations: "Praise  Him,  ye  heavens  of  heavens, 
and  ye  waters  that  be  above  the  heavens." 

He  raised  his  head  and  glanced  out  toward 
the  western  sky.  A  star  or  two  twinkled  through 
the  fading  afterglow.  Pushing  the  book  aside, 
he  walked  to  the  open  window  and  looked  up. 

There  was  a  noise  of  children  playing  on  the 
pavement  below,  and  the  rumbling  of  an  electric 

7 


8  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

car  in  the  next  street.  A  whiff  from  a  passing 
cigar  floated  up  to  him,  and  the  shrill  whistle  of 
a  newsboy  with  the  evening  paper. 

But  Abraham  at  the  door  of  his  tent,  Moses 
in  the  Midian  desert,  Elijah  by  the  brook 
Cherith,  were  no  more  apart  from  the  world 
than  this  old  rabbi  at  this  moment. 

He  saw  only  the  star.  He  heard  only  the  in- 
ward voice  of  adoration,  as  he  stood  in  silent  com- 
munion with  the  God  of  his  fathers. 

His  strong,  rugged  features  and  white  beard 
suggested  the  line  of  patriarchs  so  forcibly,  that 
had  a  robe  and  sandals  been  substituted  for  the 
broadcloth  suit  he  wore,  the  likeness  would  have 
been  complete. 

He  stood  there  a  long  time,  with  his  lips 
moving  silently;  then  suddenly,  as  if  his  un- 
spoken homage  demanded  voice,  he  caught  up 
his  violin.  Forty  years  of  companionship  had 
made  it  a  part  of  himself. 

The  depth  of  his  being  that  could  find  no 
expression  in  words,  poured  itself  out  in  the 
passionately  reverent  tones  of  his  violin. 

In  such  exalted  moods  as  this  it  was  no 
earthly  instrument  of  music.  It  became  to  him 
a  veritable  Jacob's  ladder,  on  which  he  heard 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  9 

the  voices  of  the  angels  ascending  and  descend- 
ing, and  on  whose  trembling  rounds  he  climbed 
to  touch  the  Infinite. 

There  was  a  quick  step  on  the  stairs,  and  a 
heavy  tread  along  the  upper  hall.  Then  the 
portiere  was  pushed  aside  and  a  voice  of  the 
world  brought  the  rhapsody  to  a  close. 

"Where  are  you,  Uncle  Ezra?  It  is  too 
dark  to  see,  but  your  fiddle  says  that  you  are  at 
home." 

"Ah,  David,  my  boy,  come  in  and  strike 
a  light.  I  wondered  why  you  were  so  late." 

"I  was  out  on  my  wheel,"  answered  the 
young  man.  "Cycling  is  warm  work  this  time 
of  year." 

He  lighted  the  gas  and  threw  himself  lazily 
down  among  the  pile  of  cushions  on  the  couch. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  Marta  to-day." 

"And  what  does  the  little  sister  have  to  say?" 
answered  the  rabbi,  noticing  a  frown  deepening 
on  David's  forehead.  "I  suppose  her  vacation 
has  commenced,  and  she  will  soon  be  on  her  way 
home  again." 

"No,"  answered  David,  with  a  still  deeper 
frown.  "She  has  changed  all  her  plans,  and 
wants  me  to  change  mine,  just  to  suit  the  Her- 


10  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

rick  family.  She  has  gone  to  Chattanooga  with 
them,  and  they  are  up  on  Lookout  Mountain. 
She  wants  me  to  meet  her  there  and  spend  part 
of  the  summer  with  her.  She  grows  more  in- 
fatuated with  Frances  Herrick  every  day.  You 
know  they  have  been  inseparable  friends  since 
they  first  started  to  kindergarten." 

"Why  did  she  go  down  there  without  con- 
sulting you?"  asked  the  old  man  impatiently. 
"You  should  be  both  father  and  mother  to  her, 
now  that  neither  of  your  parents  is  living.  I 
wish  I  were  really  your  uncle  and  hers, 
that  I  might  have  some  authority.  You  must 
be  more  careful  of  her,  my  boy.  She  should 
spend  this  summer  with  you  at  home,  instead 
of  with  strangers  in  a  hotel." 

"But,  Uncle  Ezra,"  protested  David,  quick 
to  excuse  the  little  sister,  who  was  the  only  one 
in  the  world  related  to  him  by  family  ties,  "at 
home  there  is  nobody  but  the  housekeeper. 
Mrs.  Herrick  is  with  the  girls  now,  and  the  ma- 
jor will  join  them  next  week.  Marta  is  just  like 
one  of  the  family,  and  I  have  encouraged  the 
intimacy,  because  I  felt  that  Mrs.  Herrick  gives 
her  the  motherly  care  she  needs.  Besides,  Marta 
and  Frances  are  so  congenial  in  every  way  that 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  11 

they  find  their  greatest  happiness  together.  I 
tell  them  they  are  as  bad  as  Ruth  and  Naomi. 
It  is  a  case  of  Svhere  thou  goest  I  will  go/  etc." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  exclaimed  the  rabbi,  fer- 
vently. "Do  you  remember  that  the  rest  of  that 
declaration  is,  'Thy  people  shall  be  my  people, 
and  thy  God  my  God?'  David,  my  son,  I  tell 
you  there  is  great  danger  of  the  child's  being  led 
away  from  the  faith.  Your  father  and  hers 
was  my  dearest  friend.  I  have  loved  you  chil- 
dren like  my  own.  You  must  heed  my  warn- 
ing, and  discourage  such  intimacy  with  a  Gentile 
family,  especially  when  it  includes  such  an  agree- 
able member  as  that  young  Albert  Herrick." 

"Why,  he  is  only  a  boy,  Uncle  Ezra." 

"Yes,  but  he  is  older  than  Marta,  and  they 
are  thrown  constantly  together." 

David  looked  down  at  the  carpet,  and  began 
absently  tracing  a  pattern  with  his  foot.  He 
was  thinking  of  the  little  sixteen-year-old  sis- 
ter. The  seven  years'  difference  in  their  ages 
gave  him  a  fatherly  feeling  for  her.  He  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  interfering  seriously 
with  her  pleasure,  yet  he  could  not  ignore  the 
old  man's  warning. 

Rabbi  Barthold  had  been  his  tutor  in  both 


12  IN   1,EAGUE  WITH   ISRAEL. 

languages  and  music.  Aside  from  a  few  years 
at  college,  all  that  he  knew  had  been  learned 
under  the  old  man's  wise  supervision. 

"Ezra,  my  friend,"  said  the  elder  David, 
when  he  lay  dying,  "take  my  child  and  make 
him  a  man  after  your  own  pattern.  I  know 
your  noble  soul.  Give  his  the  same  strength 
and  sweetness.  We  are  so  greedy  for  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt,  that  we  forget  to  satisfy  the  soul 
hunger.  But  you  will  teach  the  little  fellow 
higher  things." 

Later,  when  the  end  had  almost  come,  his 
hand  groped  out  feebly  towards  the  child,  who 
had  been  brought  to  his  bedside. 

"Never  mind  about  the  shekels,  little 
David,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse,  broken  whisper. 
"But  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart — that 's  all 
that  counts  when  you  're  in  your  coffin." 

The  child's  eyes  grew  wide  with  wonder 
as  a  paroxysm  of  pain  contracted  the  beloved 
face.  He  was  led  quickly  away,  but  those  words 
were  never  forgotten. 

The  rabbi  was  thinking  of  them  now  as  he 
studied  the  handsome  features  of  the  young  fel- 
low before  him. 

It  was  a  strong  face,  but  refinement  and 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  13 

gentleness  showed  in  every  line.  There  was 
something  so  boyish  and  frank,  also,  in  its  ex- 
pression, that  a  tender  smile  moved  the  rabbi's 
lips.  "Clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart,"  he  said 
fondly  to  himself.  "He  has  them.  Ah,  mv, 
David,  if  thou  couldst  but  see  how  .thy  little 
one  has  grown,  not  only  in  stature,  but  in  soul- 
life,  in  ideals,  thou  would'st  be  satisfied." 

"Well,"  he  said  aloud,  as  the  young  man 
left  his  seat  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  "what 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  scarcely  know,"  was  the  hesitating  an- 
swer. "It  would  not  be  wise  to  send  for  Marta 
to  come  home,  for  the  reason  you  suggest,  and 
I  have  no  other  tv  offer  her." 

"Then  go  to  her!"  the  rabbi  exclaimed. 
"You  need  not  tell  her  that  you  have  any  fear 
of  her  being  influenced  by  Gentile  society — 
but  never  for  a  moment  let  her  forget  that  she 
is  a  Jewess.  Kindle  her  pride  in  her  race. 
Teach  her  loyalty  to  her  people,  and  love  for 
all  that  is  Hebrew." 

"But  my  Hudson  Bay  trip?"  David  sug- 
gested. 

"That  can  wait.     The  Tennessee  mountains 


14  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

will  give  you  as  good  a  summer  outing  as  you 
need,  and  you  can  play  guardian  angel  for 
Marta  while  you  take  it." 

David  laughed,  and  took  another  turn 
across  the  room.  Then  he  paused  beside  the 
table,  and  picked  up  a  newspaper. 

"I  wonder  what  connections  the  trains  make 
now,"  he  said.  "There  used  to  be  a  long  wait 
at  a  dismal  old  junction."  He  glanced  hastily 
over  the  time-table. 

"Why,  look  here!"  he  exclaimed.  "Here 
is  a  cheap  excursion  to  Chattanooga  this  next 
week.  I  could  afford  to  run  down  and  see 
Marta,  anyhow.  Maybe  I  could  persuade  her 
to  come  back  with  me,  if  I  promised  to  take  her 
to  Hudson  Bay  with  me." 

"What  kind  of  an  excursion?"  asked  the 
rabbi. 

"Epworth  League,  it  says  here,  whatever 
that  may  be.  It  seems  to  be  some  sort  of  an 
international  convention,  and  says  to  apply  to 
Frank  B.  Marion  for  particulars." 

"Marion,"  repeated  the  rabbi,  thoughtfully. 
"O,  then  it  is  a  Methodist  affair.  He  is  not  only 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  that  big  Church  on 
Garrison  Avenue,  but  hands  and  feet  as  well, 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  15 

judging  by  the  way  he  works  for  it.  I  wish  my 
congregation  would  take  a  few  lessons  from 
him." 

"Is  he  very  tall,  with  a  short,  brown  beard, 
and  blue  eyes,  and  a  habit  of  shaking  hands 
with  everybody?"  asked  David.  "I  believe 
I  know  the  man.  I  met  him  on  the  cars  last 
fall.  He  's  lively  company.  I  've  a  notion  to 
hunt  him  up,  and  find  what 's  going  on." 

"Telephone  out  to  Hillhollow  that  you  will 
not  be  at  home  to-night,"  said  the  rabbi,  "and 
stay  in  the  city  with  me.  If  you  conclude  to 
go  to  Chattanooga  next  week,  I  have  much  to 
say  to  you  before  taking  leave  of  you  for  the 
summer." 

"Very  well,"  consented  David.  "I'll  go 
down  town  immediately,  and  see  if  I  can  find  this 
Mr.  Marion.  What  is  his  business,  do  you 
know?" 

"A  wholesale  shoe  merchant,  I  believe.  He 
is  in  that  big  new  building  next  to  Cohen's 
furniture-store,  on  Duke  Street.  But  you  '11 
not  find  him  Wednesday  night.  They  have 
Church  in  the  middle  of  the  week,  and  he  is 
one  of  the  few  Christians  whose  life  is  as  loud  as 
his  profession." 


16  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

David  smiled  a  little  bitterly.  "Then  I 
shall  certainly  cultivate  his  acquaintance  for 
the  purpose  of  studying  such  a  rara  avis,  it 
has  never  been  my  lot  to  know  a  Christian  who 
measured  up  to  his  creed." 

"Do  not  grow  cynical,  my  lad,"  answered  the 
old  man,  gently.  "I  have  made  you  a  dreamer 
like  myself.  I  have  kept  you  in  an  atmosphere 
of  high  ideals.  I  have  led  you  into  the  compan- 
ionship of  all  that  was  heroic  in  the  past,  and 
held  you  apart  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
sordid  selfishness  of  the  age.  O,  I  grow  sick 
at  heart  sometimes  when  I  stroll  through  the 
great  centers  of  trade,  watching  the  fierce  strug- 
gle of  humanity  as  they  snatch  the  bread  from 
other  mouths  to  feed  their  own. 

"You  remember  our  Hebrew  word  for  teach 
comes  from  tooth,  and  means  to  make  sharp  like 
a  tooth.  Sometimes  I  think  that  primitive  idea 
has  become  the  popular  view  of  education  in 
this  day.  Anything  that  will  fit  a  man  to  bite 
and  cut  his  way  through  this  hungry  wolf-pack 
is  what  is  sought  after,  no  matter  how  many  of  his 
kind  are  trampled  under  foot  in  the  struggle. 
I  am  almost  afraid  for  you  to  step  down  from 
the  place  where  I  have  kept  you.  When  you 


THE;  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  17 

are  thrown  with  men  who  care  for  nothing  but 
material  things,  who  would  barter  not  only  their 
birthrights  but  their  souls  for  a  mess  of  pottage, 
I.  am  afraid  you.  will  lose  faith  in  humanity." 

"That  is  quite  likely,  Uncle  Ezra." 

"Aye,  but  1  would  not  have  it  so,  David. 
The  world  is  certainly  growing  a  little  less  savage, 
and  in  every  nature  smolders  some  spark,  how- 
ever small,  of  the  eternal  good.  No  matter  how 
we  have  fallen,  we  still  bear  the  imprint  of  the 
Creator,  in  whose  likeness  we  were  first  fash- 
ioned." 

Rabbi  Barthold  had  been  right  in  calling 
himself  a  dreamer.  The  ability  to  live  apart 
from  his  surroundings,  had  been  his  greatest 
comfort.  Because  of  it,  the  rigor  of  extreme 
poverty  that  surrounded  his  early  life  had  not 
touched  his  heart  with  its  baneful  chill.  He  had 
gone  through  the  world  a  happy  optimist. 

He  had  been  trained  according  to  the  most 
strictly  orthodox  system  of  Judaism.  But  even 
its  severe  pressure  had  failed  to  confine  him  to 
the  limits  of  such  a  narrow  mold. 

He  was  still  a  dreamer.  In  the  new  world 
he  had  cast  aside  the  shackles  of  tradition  for 
the  larger  liberty  of  the  Reformed  Jew. 

2  * 


18  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Now  in  his  serene  old  age,  surrounded  by 
luxuries,  he  still  lived  apart  in  a  world  of  music 
and  literature. 

His  congregation,  broken  loose  from  the  old 
moorings,  drifted  dangerously  away  towards 
radicalism,  but  he  stood  firm  in  the  belief  that 
the  "chosen  people"  would  finally  triumph  over 
all  error,  and  found  much  comfort  in  the 
thought. 

David  took  out  his  watch.  "It  is  after  eight 
o'clock,"  he  said.  "Probably  if  I  walk  down 
Garrison  Avenue,  I  may  meet  Mr.  Marion  com- 
ing from  Church.  I  '11  be  back  soon." 

People  were  beginning  to  file  out  of  the  side 
entrance  that  led  to  the  prayer-meeting  room, 
by  the  time  he  reached  the  church. 

"Is  Mr.  Frank  Marion  in  here?"  he  asked  of 
the  colored  janitor,  who  was  standing  in  the 
doorway. 

"Yes,  sah !"  was  the  emphatic  response.  "He 
sut'n'y  is,  sah !  He  am  always  the  fust  to  come, 
an'  the  last  to  depaht." 

"Why,  good  evening,  Mr.  Herschel,"  ex- 
claimed a  pleasant  voice. 

David  turned  quickly  to  lift  his  hat.  An 
elderly  lady  was  coming  down  the  steps  with 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  19 

• 

two  young  girls.  She  came  up  to  him  with  a 
smile,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  since  you  came  back 
from  college,"  she  said,  cordially;  "but  I  never 
lose  my  interest  in  any  of  Rob's  playmates." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Bond,"  he  replied,  with 
his  hat  still  in  his  hand. 

As  she  passed  on,  a  swift  rush  of  recollection 
brought  back  the  big  attic  where  he  had  passed 
many  a  rainy  day  with  Rob  Bond.  He  recalled 
\vith  something  of  the  old  boyish  pleasure  a  cer- 
tain jar  on  their  pantry  shelf,  where  the  most  de- 
licious ginger-snaps  were  always  to  be  found. 

But  the  next  moment  the  smile  left  his  lips, 
as  an  exclamation  of  one  of  the  girls  was  car- 
ried back  to  him.  It  was  made  in  an  under- 
tone, but  the  still  evening  air  transmitted  it 
with  startling  distinctness. 

"Why,  Auntie,  he's  a  Jew!  I  didn't 
think  you  would  shake  hands  with  a  Jew!" 

He  could  not  hear  Mrs.  Bond's  reply.  He 
drew  himself  up  haughtily.  Then  the  indignant 
flash  died  out  of  his  eyes.  After  all,  why  should 
he,  with  the  princely  blood  of  Israel  in  his  veins, 
care  for  the  callow  prejudices  of  a  little  school- 
girl? 


20  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

• 

A  crowd  of  people  passed  out,  laughing  and 
talking.  Then  he  saw  Mr.  Marion  come  into 
the  vestibule  with  several  boys,  just  as  the  jan- 
itor began  to  extinguish  the  lights. 

He  turned  to  David  with  a  hearty  smile 
and  a  strong  hand-clasp,  recognizing  him  in- 
stantly. 

"How  are  you,  brother?"  he  asked.  He 
spoke  with  a  slight  Southern  accent.  Somehow, 
David  felt  forcibly  that  it  was  not  merely  as  a 
matter  of  habit  that  Frank  Marion  called  him 
brother.  Such  a  warm,  personal  interest  seemed 
to  speak  through  the  friendly  blue  eyes  looking 
so  honestly  into  his  own,  that  he  was  half-way 
persuaded  to  go  to  Chattanooga  with  him  before 
a  word  had  been  said  on  the  subject.  They 
walked  several  blocks  together  up  the  avenue, 
discussing  the  excursion.  Then  Mr.  Marion 
stopped  at  the  gate  of  an  old-fashioned  resi- 
dence, built  some  distance  back  from  the  street. 

"I  have  a  message  to  deliver  to  Miss  Hallam, 
a  cousin  of  mine,"  he  said.  "If  you  will  wait 
a  moment,  I  '11  go  with  you  over  to  the  office." 

The  front  door  stood  open,  and  the  hall-lamp 
sent  a  flood  of  yellow  light  streaming  out  into 
the  warm,  June  darkness. 


THE  RABBI'S  PROTEGE.  21 

In  response  to  Mr.  Marion's  knock,  there 
was  a  flutter  of  a  white  dress  in  the  hall,  and  the 
next  instant  the  massive  old  doorway  framed  a 
picture  that  the  young  Jew  never  forgot.  It 
was  Bethany  Hallam.  The  light  seemed  to  make 
a  halo  of  her  golden  hair,  and  to  illuminate 
her  dress  and  the  sweet  upturned  face  with  such 
an  ethereal  whiteness  that  David  was  reminded 
of  a  Psyche  in  Parian  marble. 

"Who  is  she?"  he  exclaimed,  as  Mr.  Marion 
rejoined  him.  "One  never  sees  a  face  like  that 
outside  of  some  artist's  conception.  It  is  too 
spirituelle  for  this  planet,  but  too  sad  for  any 
other." 

"She  is  Judge  Hallam's  daughter,"  Mr. 
Marion  responded.  "He  died  last  fall,  and 
Bethany  is  grieving  herself  to  death.  I  have  at 
last  persuaded  her  to  go  to  Chattanooga  with 
us.  She  needs  to  have'  her  thoughts  turned  into 
another  channel,  and  I.  hope  this  trip  will  ac- 
complish that  purpose." 

"I  knew  the  Judge,"  said  David.  "I  met 
him  a  number  of  times  after  I  was  admitted 
to  the  bar." 

"O,  I  did  n't  know  you  were  a  lawyer,"  said 
Mr.  Marion. 


22  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Yes,  I  expect  to  begin  practicing  here  after 
vacation,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  begin  my  practice 
right  now,"  said  Mr.  Marion,  laughing,  "and 
plead  my  case  to  such  purpose  that  you  will  be 
persuaded  to  take  this  Chattanooga  trip."  He 
slipped  his  arm  through  David's,  and  drew  him 
around  the  corner  toward  his  store. 


CHAPTER  II. 
"ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA." 

T  was  within  three  minutes  of  time 
for  the  south-bound  train  to  start 
when  David  Herschel  swung  him- 
self on  the  platform  of  the  Chat- 
tanooga special.  As  he  settled  himself  comfort- 
ably in  the  first  vacant  seat,  Mr.  Marion  hurried 
past  him  down  the  aisle  with  a  valise  in  each 
hand.  He  was  followed  by  two  ladies.  The 
first  one  seemed  to  know  every  one  in  the  car, 
judging  by  the  smiles  and  friendly  voices  that 
greeted  her  apearance. 

"O,  we  were  so  afraid  you  were  not  coming, 
Mrs.  Marion,"  cried  an  impulsive  young  girl, 
just  in  front  of  David.  "It  would  have  been 
such  a  disappointment.  Is  n't  she  just  the  dear- 
est thing  in  the  world?"  she  rattled  on  to  her  com- 
panion, as  Mrs.  Marion  passed  out  of  hearing. 
"Well,  if  she  hasn't  got  Bethany  Hallam 
with  her!  Of  all  people  to  go  on  an  excursion, 
it  seems  to  me  she  would  be  the  very  last." 

23 


24  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Why?"  asked  the  other  girl.  As  that  was 
the  question  uppermost  in  David's  mind,  he 
listened  with  interest  for  the  answer. 

UO,  she  seems  so  different  from  other  people. 
Her  father  always  used  to  treat  her  as  if  she 
were  made  of  a  little  finer  clay  than  ordinary 
mortals.  When  she  traveled,  it  was  always  in 
a  private  car.  When  she  went  to  lectures  or 
concerts,  they  always  had  the  best  seats  in  the 
house.  All  her  teachers  taught  her  at  home  ex- 
cept one.  She  went  to  the  conservatory  for  her 
drawing  lessons,  but  a  maid  came  with  her  in  the 
morning,  and  her  father  drove  by  for  her  at 
noon." 

As  he  listened,  David's  eyes  had  followed 
the  tall,  graceful  girl  who  was  now  seating  her- 
self by  Mrs.  Marion. 

Every  movement,  as  well  as  every  detail  of 
her  traveling  dress,  impressed  him  with  a  sense 
of  her  refinement  and  culture.  He  noticed  that 
she  was  all  in  black.  A  thin  veil  drawn  over 
her  face  partially  concealed  its  delicate  pallor; 
but  her  soft,  light  hair,  drawn  up  under  the  little 
black  hat  she  wore,  seemed  sunnier  than  ever 
by  contrast. 

"Isn't  she  beautiful?"  sighed  David's  talk- 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  25 

ative  neighbor.  "I  used  to  wish  I  could  change 
places  with  her,  especially  the  year  when  she 
went  abroad  to  study  art;  but  I  wouldn't  now 
for  anything  in  the  world." 

"Why?"  asked  her  companion  again,  and 
David  mentally  echoed  her  interrogation. 

"O,  because  her  father  is  dead  now,  and 
everything  is  so  different.  Something  happened 
to  their  property,  so  there  's  nothing  left  but  the 
old  home.  Then  her  little  brother  had  such  a 
dreadful  fall  just  after  the  Judge's  death. 
They  thought  he  would  die,  too,  or  be  a  cripple 
all  his  life;  but  I  believe  he's  better  now. 
He  is  sort  of  paralyzed,  so  he  has  to  stay 
in  a  wheel-chair;  but  the  doctor  says  he  is  grad- 
ually getting  over  that,  and  will  be  all  right 
after  awhile.  It 's  a  very  peculiar  case,  I  've 
heard.  There  have  only  been  a  few  like  it.  She 
is  studying  stenography  now,  so  that  she  can 
keep  on  living  in  the  old  home  and  take  care 
of  little  Jack." 

"Do  you  know  her?"  interrupted  the  inter- 
ested listener. 

"No,  not  very  well.  I  've  always  seen  her 
in  Church;  you  know  Judge  Hallam  was  one  of 
our  best  paying  members,  and  rarely  missed  a 


26       •      IN  I,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Sabbath  morning  service.  But  they  were  very 
exclusive  socially.  My  easel  stood  next  to  hers 
in  the  art  conservatory  one  term,  and  we  talked 
about  our  work  sometimes.  She  used  to  remind 
me  of  Sir  Christopher  in  'Tales  of  a  Wayside 
Inn.'  Don't  you  remember?  She  had  that 

'  Way  of  saying  things 
That  made  one  think  o£  courts  and  kings, 

And  lords  and  ladies  of  high  degree, 
So  that  not  having  been  at  court 
Seemed  something  very  little  short 
Of  treason  or  lese-majesty, 
Such  an  accomplished  knight  was  he.'  " 

Both  girls  laughed,  and  then  the  lively 
chatter  was  drowned  by  the  jarring  rumble  of 
the  train  as  it  puffed  slowly  x>ut  of  the  depot. 

"Any  one  would  know  this  is  a  Methodist 
crowd,"  said  Mrs.  Marion  laughingly,  as  a  dozen 
happy  young  voices  began  to  sing  an  old  revival 
hymn,  and  it  was  caught  up  all  over  the  car. 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  her  husband,  reach- 
ing into  his  coat  pocket,  "I  have  something 
here  that  will  prevent  any  mistake  if  doubt 
should  arise." 

He  drew  out  a  little  box  of  ribbon  badges 
and  a  paper  of  pins.  "Here,"  he  said,  "put  one 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  27 

on,  Ray;  we  must  all  show  our  colors  this  week. 
You,  too,  Bethany." 

"O  no,  Cousin  Frank,"  she  protested.  "I 
am  not  a  member  of  the  League." 

''That  makes  no  difference,"  he  answered, 
in  his  hearty,  persistent  way.  "You  ought  to 
be  one,  and  you  will  be  by  the  time  you  get 
back  from  this  conference." 

''But,  Cousin  Frank,  I  never  wore  a  badge 
in  my  life,"  she  insisted.  "I  have  always  had 
the  greatest  antipathy  to  such  things.  It  makes 
one  so  conspicuous  to  be  branded  in  that  way." 

He  held  out  the  little  white  ribbon,  threaded 
with  scarlet,  and  bearing  the  imprint  of  the  Mal- 
tese cross.  The  light,  jesting  tone  was  gone. 
He  was  so  deeply  in  earnest  that  it  made  her  feel 
uncomfortable. 

"Do  you  know  what  the  colors  mean,  Beth- 
any?" Then  he  paused  reverently.  "The  purity 
and  the  blood!  Surely,  you  can  not  refuse  to 
wear  those." 

He  laid  the  little  badge  in  her  lap,  and  passed 
down  the  aisle,  distributing  the  others  right  and 
left. 

She  looked  at  it  in  silence  a  moment,  and 
then  pinned  it  on  the  lapel  of  her  traveling  coat. 


28  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Cousin  Ray,  did*you  ever  know  another 
such  persistent  man?"  she  asked.  "How  is  it 
that  he  can  always  make  people  go  in  exactly 
the  opposite  way  from  the  one  they  had  in- 
tended? When  he  first  planned  for  me  to  come 
on  this  excursion,  I  thought  it  was  the  most 
preposterous  idea  I  ever  heard  of.  But  he  put 
aside  every  objection,  and  overruled  every  ar- 
gument I  could  make.  I  did  not  want  to  come 
at  all,  but  he  planned  his  campaign  like  a  gen- 
eral, and  I  had  to  surrender." 

"Tell  me  how  he  managed,"  said  Mrs. 
Marion.  "You  know  I  did  not  get  home  from 
Chicago  until  yesterday  morning,  and  I  have 
been  too  busy  getting  ready  to  come  on  this 
excursion  to  ask  him  anything." 

"When  he  had  urged  all  the  reasons  he 
could  think  of  for  my  going,  but  without  suc- 
cess, he  attacked  me  in  my  only  vulnerable  spot, 
little  Jack.  The  child  has  considered  Cousin 
Frank's  word  law  and  gospel  ever  since  he  joined 
the  Junior  League.  So,  when  he  was  told  that 
my  health  would  be  benefited  by  the  trip,  and 
it  would  arouse  me  from  the  despondent,  low- 
Spirited  state  I  had  fallen  into,  he  gave  me  no 
rest  until  I  promised  to  go.  Jack  showed  gen- 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  29 

eralship,  too.  He  waited  until  the  night  of 
his  birthday.  I  had  promised  him  a  little  party, 
but  he  was  so  much  worse  that  day,  it  had  to 
be  postponed.  I  was  so  sorry  for  him  that  I 
could  have  promised  him  almost  anything.  The 
little  rascal  knew  it,  too.  While  I  was  helping 
him  undress,  he  put  his  arms  around  my  neck, 
and  began  to  beg  me  to  go.  He  told  me  that  he 
had  been  praying  that  I  might  change  my  mind. 
Ever  since  he  has  been  in  the  League  he  has 
seemed  to  get  so  much  comfort  out  of  the  belief 
that  his  prayers  are  always  answered  that  I 
could  n't  bear  to  shake  his  faith.  So  I  promised 
him." 

"The  dear  little  John  Wesley,"  said  Mrs. 
Marion;  "you  ought  to  give  him  the  full  benefit 
of  his  name,  Bethany." 

"Mamma  did  intend  to,  but  papa  said  it  was 
as  much  too  big  for  him  as  the  huge  old- 
fashioned  silver  watch  that  Grandfather  Brad- 
ford left  him.  He  suggested  that  both  be  laid 
away  until  he  grew  up  to  fit  them." 

"Who  is  taking  care  of  him  in  your  ab- 
sence?" was  the  next  question. 

"O,  he  and  Cousin  Frank  arranged  that,  too. 
They  sent  for  his  old  nurse.  She  came  last 


30  IN  LEAGUE  WITH 


night  with  her  little  nine-year-old  grandson. 
Just  Jack's  age,  you  see;  so  he  will  have  some- 
body to  make  the  time  pass  very  quickly." 

Mrs.  Marion  stopped  her  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  "Well,  I  wish  you  'd  look  at 
Frank!  What  will  he  do  next?  He  is  actually 
pinning  an  Epworth  League  badge  on  that 
young  Jew!" 

Bethany  turned  her  head  a  little  to  look. 
"What  a  fine  face  he  has!"  she  remarked.  "It 
is  almost  handsome.  He  must  feel  very  much 
out  of  place  among  such  an  aggressive  set  of 
Christians.  I  wonder  what  he  thinks  of  all  these 


songs?" 


Mr.  Marion  came  back  smiling.  As  super- 
intendent of  both  Sunday-school  and  Junior 
League,  he  had  won  the  love  of  every  one  con- 
nected with  them.  His  passage  through  the 
ca.',  as  he  distributed  the  badges,  was  attended 
by  many  laughing  'remarks  and  warm  hand- 
clasps. 

There  was  a  happy  twinkle  in  his  eyes  when 
he  stopped  beside  his  wife's  seat.  She  smiled  up 
at  him  as  he  towered  above  her,  and  motioned 
him  to  take  the  seat  in  front  of  them. 

"I  'm  not  going  to  stay,"  he  said.     "I  want 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  31 

to  bring  a  young  man  up  here,  and  introduce 
him  to  you.  He  's  having  a  pretty  lonesome 
time,  I  'm  afraid." 

"It  must  be  that  Jew,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Marion.  "I  know  every  one  else  on  the  car. 
I  do  n't  see  that  we  are  called  on  to  entertain 
him,  Frank.  He  came  with  us,  simply  to  take 
advantage  of  the  excursion  rates.  I  should  think 
he  would  prefer  to  be  let  alone.  He  must  have 
thought  it  presumptuous  in  you  to  pin  that  badge 
on  him.  What  did  he  say  when  you  did  it?" 

Mr.  Marion  bent  down  to  make  himself 
heard  above  the  noise  of  the  train. 

"I  showed  him  our  motto,  'Look  up,  lift  up,' 
and  told  him  if  there  was  any  people  in  the 
world  who  ought  to  be  able  to  wear  such  a  motto 
worthily,  it  was  the  nation  whose  Moses  had 
climbed  Sinai,  and  whose  tables  of  stone  lifted 
up  the  highest  standard  of  morality  known  to 
the  race  of  Adam." 

Mrs.  Marion  laughed.  "You  would  make 
a  fine  politician,"  she  exclaimed.  "You  always 
know  just  the  right  chord  to  touch." 

"Cousin  Frank,"  asked  Bethany,  "how  does 
it  happen  you  have  taken  such  an  intense  in- 
terest in  him?" 


32  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

He  dropped  into  the  seat  lacing  theirs,  and 
leaned  forward. 

"Well,  to  begin  with,  he  's  a  tine  fellow.  I 
have  had  several  talks  with  him,  and  have  been 
wonderfully  impressed  with  his  high  ideals  and 
views  of  life.  But  I  am  free  to  confess,  had  I 
met  him  ten  years  ago,  I  could  not  have  seen 
any  good  traits  in  him  at  all.  I  was  blinded  by 
a  prejudice  that  I  am  unable  to  account  for. 
It  must  have  been  hereditary,  for  it  has  existed 
since  my  earliest  recollection,  and  entirely 
without  reason,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  I  some- 
how felt  that  I  was  justified  in  hating  the  Jews. 
I  had  unconsciously  acquired  the  opinion  that 
they  were  wholly  devoid  of  the  finer  sensibilities, 
that  they  were  gross  in  their  manner  of  living, 
and  petty  and  mean  in  business  transactions. 
I  took  Fagin  and  Shylock  as  fair  specimens 
of  the  whole  race.  It  was,  really,  a  most  un- 
accountable hatred  I  had  for  them.  My  teeth 
would  actually  clinch  if  I  had  to  sit  next  to  one 
on  a  street-car.  You  may  think  it  strange,  but 
I  was  not  alone  in  the  feeling.  I  know  it  to  be 
a  fact  that  there  are  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  Church  members  to-day  that  have  the  same 
inexplicable  antipathy." 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  33 

Bethany  looked  up  quickly. 

uMy  father's  reading  and  training,"  she 
said,  "has  caused  me  to  have  a  great  admiration 
and  respect  for  Jews  in  the  abstract.  I  mean 
such  as  the  Old  Testament  heroes  and  the  Mac- 
cabees of  a  later  date.  But  in  the  concrete,  I 
must  say  I  like  to  have  as  little  intercourse  with 
them  as  possible.  And  as  to  modern  Israelites, 
all  I  know  of  them  personally  is  the  almost 
cringing  obsequiousness  of  a  few  wealthy  mer- 
chants with  whom  1  have  dealt,  and  the  dirty 
swarm  of  repulsive  creatures  that  infest  the 
tenement  districts.  We  used  to  take  a  short 
cut  through  those  streets  sometimes  in  driving 
to  the  market.  Ugh!  It  was  dreadful!"  She 
gave  a  little  shiver  of  repugnance  at  the  recol- 
lection. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered.  "I  had  that 
same  feeling  the  greater  part  of  my  life.  But 
ten  years  ago  I  spent  a  summer  at  Chautauqua, 
studying  the  four  Gospels.  It  opened  my  eyes, 
Bethany.  I  got  a  clearer  view  of  the  Christ 
than  I  ever  had  before.  I  saw  how  I  had  been 
misrepresenting  him  to  the  world.  The  incon- 
sistencies of  my  life  seemed  like  the  lanterns 
the  pirates  used  to  hang  on  the  dangerous  cliffs 

3 


S4  IN  t,EAGim  WITH  ISRAEL. 

along  the  coast,  that  vessels  might  be  wrecked 
by  their  misleading  light.  Do  you  suppose  a 
Jew  could  have  accepted  such  a  Christ  as  I  rep- 
resented then?  No  wonder  they  fail  to  recog- 
nize their  Messiah  in  the  distorted  image  that 
is  reflected  in  the  lives  of  his  followers." 

"But  they  rejected  Christ  himself  when  he 
was  among  them,"  ventured  Bethany. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Marion,  "it  was  like 
the  old  story  of  the  man  with  a  muck  rake.  Do 
you  remember  that  picture  that  was  shown  to 
Christian  at  the  interpreter's  house  in  'Pilgrim's 
Progress?'  As  a  nation,  Israel  had  stooped  so 
much  to  the  gathering  of  dry  traditions,  had 
bent  so  long  over  the  minute  letter  of  the  law, 
that  it  could  not  straighten  itself  to  take  the 
crown  held  out  to  it.  It  could  not  even  lift  its 
eyes  to  discern  that- there  was  a  crown  just  over 
its  head." 

"It  always  made  me  think  of  the  blind 
Samson,"  said  Mrs.  Marion.  "In  trying  to  over- 
throw something  it  could  not  see,  spiritually 
I  mean,  it  pulled  down  the  pillars  of  prophecy 
on  its  own  head." 

Mr.  Marion  turned  to  Bethany  again. 

"Yes,  Israel,  as  a  nation,  rejected  Christ; 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  35 

but  who  was  it  that  wrote  those  wonderful 
chronicles  of  the  Nazarene?  Who  was  it  that 
went  out  ablaze  with  the  power  of  Pentecost 
to  spread  the  deathless  story  of  the  resurrection? 
Who  were  the  apostles  that  founded  our  Church  ? 
To  whom  do  we  owe  our  knowledge  of  God 
and  our  hope  of  redemption,  if  not  to  the  Jews? 
A\re  forget,  sometimes,  that  the  Savior  himself 
belonged  to  that  race  we  so  reproach." 

He  was  talking  so  earnestly,  he  had  for- 
gotten his  surroundings,  until  a  light  touch  on 
his  shoulder  interrupted  him. 

"What 's  the  occasion  of  all  this  eloquence, 
Brother  Marion?"  asked  the  minister's  genial 
voice. 

He  turned  quickly  to  smile  into  the  frank, 
smooth-shaven  face  bending  over  him. 

"Come,  sit  down,  Dr.  Bascom.  We  're  dis- 
cussing my  young  friend  back  there,  David 
Herschel.  Have  you  met  him?" 

"Yes,  I  was  talking  with  him  a  little  while 
ago,"  answered  the  minister.  "He  seems  very 
reserved.  Queer,  what  an  intangible  barrier 
seems  to  arise  when  we  talk  to  one  of  that  race. 
I  just  came  in  to  tell  you  that  Cragmore  is  in  the 
next  car.  He  got  on  at  the  last  station." 


36  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"What,  George  Cragmore!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Marion,  rising  quickly.  "I  have  n't  seen  him  for 
two  years.  1  '11  bring  him  in  here,  Kay,  after 
awhile." 

"That 's  the  last  we  '11  see  of  him  till  lunch- 
time,"  said  Mrs.  Marion,  as  the  door  banged 
behind  the  two  men. 

"Frank  will  never  think  of  us  again  when  he 
gets  to  spinning  yarns  with  Mr.  Cragmore.  I 
want  you  to  meet  him,  Bethany.  He  is  one  of 
the  most  original  men  I  ever  heard  talk.  He  's 
a  young  minister  from  the  'auld  sod.'  They 
called  him  the  'wild  Irishman  '  when  he  first 
came  over,  he  was  so  fiery  and  impetuous. 
There  is  enough  of  the  brogue  left  yet  in  his 
speech  to  spice  everything  he  says.  He  and 
Frank  are  a  great  deal  alike  in  some  things. 
They  are  both  tall  and  light-haired.  They  both 
have  a  deep  vein  of  humor  and  an  inordinate 
love  of  joking.  They  are  both  so  terribly  in 
earnest  with  their  Christianity  that  everybody 
around  them  feels  the  force  of  it;  and  when  they 
once  settle  on  a  point,  they  are  so  tenacious 
nothing  can  move  them.  I  often  tell  Frank 
he  is  worse  than  a  snapping-turtle.  Tradition 
says  they  do  let  go  when  it  thunders,  but  noth- 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  37 

ing  will  make  him  let  go  when  his  mind  is  once 
clinched." 

There  was  a  stop  of  twenty  minutes  at  noon. 
At  the  sound  of  a  noisy  gong  in  front  of  the 
station  restaurant,  Mr.  Clarion  came  in  with 
his  friend.  Capacious  lunch-baskets  were 
opened  out  on  every  side,  with  the  generous 
abundance  of  an  old-time  camp-meeting. 

"Where  is  Herschel?"  inquired  Mr.  Marion. 
"I  intended  to  ask  him  to  lunch  with  us." 

"I  saw  him  going  into  the  restaurant,"  re- 
plied his  wife. 

"You  must  have  a  talk  with  him  this  after- 
noon, George,"  said  Mr.  Marion.  "I  've  been 
all  up  and  down  this  train  trying  to  get  people 
to  be  neighborly.  I  believe  Dr.  Bascom  is  the 
only  one  who  has  spoken  to  him.  They  were 
all  having  such  a  good  time  when  I  interrupted 
them,  or  they  did  n't  know  what  to  say  to  a 
Jew,  and  a  dozen  different  excuses." 

"O,  Frank,  do  n't  get  started  on  that  sub- 
ject again!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Marion.  "Take  a 
sandwich,  and  forget  about  it." 

Bethany  Hallam  laughed  more  than  once 
during  the  merry  luncheon  that  followed.  She 
could  not  remember  that  she  had  laughed  be- 


38  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

fore  since  her  father's  death.  The  young  Irish- 
man's ready  wit,  his  droll  stories,  and  odd  ex- 
pressions were  irresistible.  He  seemed  a  mag- 
net, too,  drawing  constantly  from  Frank  Mari- 
on's inexhaustible  supply  of  fun. 

"You  have  seen  only  one  side  of  him,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Marion,  when  her  husband  had 
taken  him  away  to  introduce  David.  "While 
he  was  very  entertaining,  I  think  he  has 
shown  us  one  of  the  least  attractive  phases  of 
his  character." 

David  had  felt  very  much  out  of  place  all 
morning.  It  was  one  thing  to  travel  among 
ordinary  Gentiles,  as  he  had  always  done,  and 
another  to  be  surrounded  by  those  who  were  con- 
stantly bubbling  over  with  religious  enthusiasm. 
He  did  not  object  to  sitting  beside  a  hot-water 
tank,  he  said  to  himself,  but  he  did  object  to 
its  boiling  over  on  him. 

His  neighbors  would  have  been  very  much 
surprised  could  they  have  known  he  was  study- 
ing them  with  keen  insight,  and  finding  much 
to  criticise.  Even  some  of  their  songs  were  ob- 
jectionable to  him,  their  catchy  refrains  remind- 
ing him  of  some  he  had  heard  at  colored  min- 
strel shows. 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  39 

With  such  an  exalted  idea  of  worship  as 
the  old  rabbi  had  inculcated  in  him,  it  did  not 
seem  fitting  to  approach  Deity  in  song  unless 
through  such  sonorous  utterances  as  the  psalms. 
Some  of  these  little  tinkling,  catch-penny  tunes 
seemed  profanation. 

He  ventured  to  say  as  much  to  George  Crag- 
more.  He  had  very  unexpectedly  found  a  con- 
genial friend  in  the  young  minister.  It  was 
not  often  he  met  a  man  so  keenly  alert  to 
nature,  so  versed  in  his  favorite  literature,  or 
of  his  same  sensitive  temperament.  He  felt 
himself  opening  his  inner  doors  as  he  did  to  no 
one  else  but  the  rabbi. 

A  drizzling  rain  was  falling  when  they  be- 
gan to  wind  in  and  out  among  the  mountains  of 
Tennessee,  and  for  miles  in  their  journey  a  rain- 
bow confronted  them  at  every  turn  in  the  road. 
It  crowned  every  hilltop  ahead  of  them.  It 
reached  its  shining  ladder  of  light  into  every 
valley.  It  seemed  such  a  prophecy  of  what 
awaited  them  on  the  mountain  beyond,  that  some 
one  began  to  sing,  "Standing  on  the  Promises." 

As  the  full  glory  of  the  rainbow  flashed 
on  Cragmore's  sight,  he  stopped  abruptly  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence.  The  expression  of  his  face 


40  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

seemed  to  transfigure  it.  When  he  turned  to 
David,  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"O,  the  covenants  of  the  Old  Testament!" 
he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  that  thrilled  David  with 
its  intensity  of  feeling.  "The  Bethels!  The 
Mizpahs!  The  Ebenezers!  See,  it  is  like  a 
pillar  of  fire  leading  us  to  a  veritable  land  of 
promise." 

Then,  with  his  hand  resting  on  David's  knee, 
he  began  to  talk  of  the  promises  of  the  Bible, 
till  David  exclaimed,  impulsively:  "You  make 
me  forget  that  you  are  a  Christian.  You  enter 
into  Israel's  past  even  more  fully  than  many  of 
her  own  sons." 

Cragmore  thrust  out  his  hand,  in  his  quick, 
nervous  way,  with  an  impetuous  gesture. 

"Why,  man!"  he  cried,  relapsing  uncon- 
sciously into  the  broad  brogue  of  his  childhood, 
"we  hold  sacred  with  you  the  heritage  of  your 
past.  We  look  up  with  you  to  the  same  God, 
the  Father;  we  confess  a  common  faith  till  we 
stand  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  There  is  no 
great  barrier  between  us — only  a  step — one  step 
farther  for  you  to  take,  and  we  stand  side  by 
side!" 

He  laid  his  hand  on  David's,  and  looked  into 


ON  TO  CHATTANOOGA.  41 

his  eyes  with  an  expression  of  tender  pleading 
as  he  added: 

"O,  my  friend,  if  you  could  only  see  my 
Savior  as  he  has  revealed  himself  to  me!  I 
pray  you  may!  I^do  pray  you  may !" 

It  was  the  first  time  in  David's  life  any  one 
had  ever  said  such  a  thing  to  him.  He  sat 
back  in  his  corner  of  the  seat,  at  loss  for  an 
answer.  It  put  an  end  to  their  conversation  for 
a  while.  Cragmore  felt  that  his  sympathy  had 
carried  him  to  the  point  of  giving  offense.  He 
was  relieved  when  Dr.  Bascom  beckoned  him 
to  share  his  seat. 

After  a  while,  as  the  train  sped  on  into  the 
darkness,  the  passengers  subsided  in  to  sleepy 
indifference.  It  seemed  hours  afterward  when 
Mr.  Marion  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  say- 
ing briskly,  "Wake  up,  old  fellow,  we  are  get- 
ting into  Chattanooga." 

"Let  us  go  in  with  banners  flying,"  said 
Dr.  Bascom.  "I  understand  that  every  car-full 
that  has  come  in,  from  Maine  to  Mexico,  has 
corne  singing." 

The  lights  of  the  city,  twinkling  through 
the  car-windows,  aroused  the  sleepy  passengers 
with  a  sense  of  pleasant  anticipations,  and  when 


42  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

they  steamed  slowly  into  the  crowded  depot, 
it  was  as  "pilgrims  singing  in  the  night." 

In  the  general  confusion  of  the  arrival,  Mr. 
Marion  lost  sight  of  David. 

"It's  too  bad!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  disap- 
pointed tone.  "I  intended  to  ask  him  to  drive 
to  Missionary  Ridge  with  us  to-morrow,  and  I 
wanted  to  introduce  him  to  you,  Bethany." 

"I  'in  very  glad  you  did  n't  have  the  oppor- 
tunity, Cousin  Frank,"  she  said,  as  she  followed 
him  through  the  depot  gates.  "He  may  be 
very  agreeable,  and  all  that,  but  he  's  a  Jew, 
and  I  do  n't  care  to  make  his  acquaintance." 

The  handle  of  the  umbrella  she  was  carry- 
ing came  in  collision  with  some  one  behind  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  turning  in 
her  gracious,  high-bred  way. 

The  gentleman  raised  his  hat.  It  was 
David  Herschel.  A  stylish-looking  little  school- 
girl was  clinging  to  his  arm,  and  a  gray-bearded 
man,  whom  she  recognized  as  Major  Herrick, 
was  walking  just  behind  him.  They  had  come 
down  from  the  mountain  to  meet  him,  and  take 
him  to  Lookout  Inn.  As  their  eyes  met,  Beth- 
any was  positive  that  he  had  overheard  her  re- 
mark. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SUNRISE  "SERVICE  ON  "LOOKOUT." 

) 

Y  some  misunderstanding,  Bethany 
and  her  cousins  had  been  assigned 
to  different  homes. 

"It  is  too  late  to  make  any 
change  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Marion,  as  they  left 
her.  "We  are  only  one  block  further  up  on 
this  same  street.  "We  will  try  to  make  some  ar- 
rangement to-morrow  to  have  you  with  us." 

Bethany  followed  her  hostess  into  the  wide 
reception-hall.  One  of  the  most  elegant  homes 
of  the  South  had  opened  its  hospitable  doors  to 
receive  them.  Ten  delegates  had  preceded  her, 
all  as  tired  and  travel-stained  as  herself. 

During  the  introductions,  Bethany  mentally 
classified  them  as  the  most  uninteresting  lot  of 
people  she  had  seen  in  a  long  time. 

"I  believe  you  are  the  odd  one  of  this  party, 
Miss  Hallam,"  said  the  hostess,  glancing  over 
the  assignment  cards  she  held;  "so  I  shall  have 
to  ask  you  to  take  a  very  small  room.  It  is 

43 


44  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

one  improvised  for  the  occasion;  but  you  will 
probably  be  more  comfortable  here  alone  than 
in  a  larger  rbom  with  several  others." 

It  had  never  occurred  to  Bethany  that  she 
might  have  been  asked  to  share  an  apartment 
with  some  stranger,  and  she  hastened  to  assure 
her  hostess  of  her  appreciation  of  the  little 
room,  which,  though  very  small  indeed  com- 
pared with  the  great  dimensions  of  the  others, 
was  quite  comfortable  and  attractive. 

"I  have  always  been  accustomed  to  being  by 
myself,"  she  said,  "and  it  makes  no  difference 
at  all  if  it  is  so  far  away  from  the  other  sleep- 
ing-rooms. I  am  not  at  all  timid." 

Yet,  when  she  had  wearily  locked  her  door, 
she  realized  that  she  had  never  been  so  entirely 
alone  before  in  all  her  life.  Home  seemed  so 
very  far  away.  Her  surroundings  were  so 
strange.  Her  extreme  weariness  intensified  her 
morbid  feeling  of  loneliness.  She  remembered 
such  a  sensation  coming  to  her  one  night  in 
mid-ocean,  but  she  had  tapped  on  her  state-room 
wall,  and  her  father  had  come  to  her  imme- 
diately. Now  she  might  call  a  weary  lifetime. 
No  earthly  voice  could  ever  reach  him. 

With  a  throbbing  ache  in  her  throat,  and 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    45 

hot  tears  springing  to  her  eyes,  she  opened  her 
valise  and  took  out  a  little  photograph  case  of 
Russia  leather.  Four  pictured  faces  looked  out 
at  her.  She  was  kneeling  before  them,  with 
her  arms  resting  on  the  low  dressing-table.  As 
she  gazed  at  them  intently,  a  tear  splashed 
down  on  her  black  dress. 

"O,  it  isn't  right!  It  isn't  right,"  she 
sobbed,  passionately,  "for  God  to  take  every- 
thing! It  would  have  been  so  easy  for  him  to 
let  me  keep  them.  How  could  he  be  so  cruel? 
How  could  he  take  away  all  that  made  my  life 
worth  living,  and  then  let  little  Jack  suffer  so?" 

She  laid  her  head  on  her  arms  in  a  paroxysm 
of  sobbing.  Presently  she  looked  up  again  at 
her  mother's  picture.  It  was  a  beautiful  face, 
very  like  her  own.  It  brought  back  all  her 
happy  childhood,  that  seemed  almost  glorified 
now  by  the  remembered  halo  of  its  devoted 
mother-love. 

The  years  had  softened  that  grief,  but  it 
all  came  back  to-night  with  its  old-time  bitter- 
ness. 

The  next  face  was  little  Jack's — a  sturdy, 
wide-awake  boy,  with  mischievous  dimples  and 
laughing  eyes.  But  the  recollection  of  all  he 


46  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

had  suffered  since  his  accident,  made  her  feel 
that  she  had  lost  him  also,  in  a  way.  The 
physician  had  assured  her  that  he  would  be  the 
same  vigorous,  romping  child  again;  but  she 
found  that  hard  to  believe  when  she  thought 
of  his  present  helpless  condition. 

She  pressed  the  next  picture  to  her  lips 
with  trembling  fingers,  and  then  looked  lov- 
ingly into  the  eyes  that  seemed  to  answer  her 
gaze  with  one  of  steadfast,  manly  devotion. 

"O,  it  isn't  right!  It  isn't  right!"  she 
sobbed  again.  How  it  all  came  back  to  her — 
the  happy  June-time  of  her  engagement! — the 
summer  days  when  she  dreamed  of  him,  the 
summer  twilights  when  he  came.  Every  detail 
was  burned  into  her  aching  memory,  from  the 
first  bunch  of  violets  he  brought  her,  to  the 
judge's  tender  smile  when  she  spread  out  all 
her  bridal  array  for  him  to  see.  Such  shim- 
mering lengths  of  the  white,  trailing  satin;  such 
filmy  clouds  of  the  soft,  white  veil,  destined 
never  to  touch  her  fair  hair!  For  there  was  the 
telegram,  and  afterward  the  darkened  room, 
and  the  darker  hour,  when  she  groped  her  way 
to  a  motionless  form,  and  knelt  beside  it  alone. 
O,  how  she  had  clung  to  the  cold  hands,  and 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    47 

kissed  the  unresponsive  lips,  and  turned  away  in 
an  agony  of  despair!  But  as  she  turned,  her 
father's  strong  arms  were  folded  about  her,  and 
his  broken  voice  whispered  comfort. 

The  dear  father!  It  had  been  doubly  deso- 
late since  he  had  gone,  too. 

Kneeling  there,  with  her  head  bowed  on  her 
arms,  she  seemed  to  face  a  future  that  was  ut- 
terly hopeless.  Except  that  Jack  needed  her, 
she  felt  that  there  was  absolutely  no  reason 
why  she  should  go  on  living. 

The  ticking  of  her  watch  reminded  her  that 
it  was  nearly  midnight.  In  a  mechanical  way, 
she  got  up  and  began  to  arrange  her  hair  for 
the  night. 

After  she  had  extinguished  the  light,  she 
pulled  aside  the  curtain,  and  looked  out  on  the 
unfamiliar  streets. 

The  moon  had  come  up.  In  the  dim  light 
the  crest  of  old  Lookout  towered  grimly  above 
the  horizon.  A  verse  of  one  of  the  Psalms 
passed  through  her  mind:  "I  will  lift  up  mine 
eyesuntothehills,fromwhence  cometh  my  help  " 

"No,"  she  whispered,  bitterly,  "there  is  no 
help.  God  does  n't  care.  He  is  too  far  away." 

As  she  went  back  to  the  bed,  the  words  of 


48  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

the    novice    in    Muloch's  ''Benedetta  Minelli" 
came  to  her: 

"O  weary  world,  O  heavy  life,  farewell! 

Like  a  tired  child  that  creeps  into  the  dark 
To  sob  itself  asleep  where  none  will  mark, 
So  creep  I  to  my  silent  convent  cell." 

<4I  wish  I  could  do  that,"  she  thought;  "lock 
myself  away  with  my  memories,  and  not  be 
obliged  to  keep  up  this  empty  pretense  of  living, 
just  as  if  nothing  were  changed.  It  might  not 
be  so  hard.  How  I  dread  to-morrow,  with  its 
crowds  of  strange  faces!  O,  why  did  I  ever 
come?" 

Next  morning,  the  guests  gathered  out  on 
the  vine-covered  piazza  to  discuss  their  plans  for 
the  day. 

There  were  two  theological  students  from 
Boston,  a  young  doctor  from  Texas,  and  the 
son  of  a  wealthy  Louisiana  planter.  A  Kansas 
farmer's  wife  and  her  sister,  a  bright  little 
schoolteacher  from  an  Iowa  village,  and  three 
pretty  Georgia  girls,  completed  the  party. 

Bethany  sat  a  little  apart  from  them,  won- 
dering how  they  could  be  so  greatly  interested 
in  such  thiners  as  the  most  direct  car-line  to 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  I^OOKOUT.    49 

Missionary  Ridge,  or  the  time  it  would  take  to 
"do"  the  old  battle-grounds. 

The  youngest  Georgia  girl  was  about  her 
own  age.  She  had  made  several  attempts  to 
include  Bethany  in  the  conversation,  but  mis- 
taking her  reserve  and  indifference  for  haughti- 
ness, turned  to  the  Louisiana  boy  with  a  remark 
about  unsociable  Northerners. 

Their  frequent  laughter  reached  Bethany, 
and  she  wondered,  in  a  dull  way,  how  anybody 
could  be  light-hearted  enough  even  to  smile  in 
such  a  world  full  of  heart-aches.  Then  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  laughed  herself,  the  day 
before,  when  Mr.  Cragmore  was  with  them.  It 
rather  puzzled  her  now  to  know  how  she  could 
have  done  so.  Her  wakeful  night  had  left  her 
unusually  depressed. 

An  open,  two-seated  carriage  stopped  at 
the  gate.  Mrs.  Marion  and  George  Cragmore 
were  on  the  back  seat.  Mr.  Marion  and  Dr. 
Bascom  sat  with  the  driver.  Bethany  had  been 
waiting  for  them  some  time  with  her  hat  on, 
so  she  went  quickly  out  to  meet  them.  Mr. 
Cragmore  leaped  over  the  wheel  to  open  the 
gate,  and  assist  her  to  a  seat  between  himself 
and  Mrs.  Marion. 

4 


50  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

They  drove  rapidly  out  towards  Missionary 
Ridge.  To  Bethany's  great  relief,  neither  of 
her  companions  seemed  in  a  talkative  mood. 
Mr.  Marion,  who  was  an  ardent  Southener,  had 
been  deep  in  a  political  discussion  with  Dr.  Bas- 
com.  As  they  stopped  on  the  winding  road, 
half  way  up  the  ridge,  to  look  down  into  the 
beautiful  valley  below,  and  across  to  the  purple 
summit  of  Lookout,  Mr.  Marion  drew  a  long 
breath.  Then  he  took  off  his  hat,  saying,  rev- 
erently, "The  work  of  His  fingers!  What  is 
man,  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him?"  Then, 
after  a  long  silence:  "How  insignificant  our 
little  differences  seem,  Bascom,  in  the  sight  of 
these  everlasting  hills!  Let's  change  the  sub- 
ject." 

Mrs.  Marion,  absorbed  in  the  beauty  on 
every  side,  did  not  notice  Bethany's  continued 
silence  or  Cragmore's  spasmodic  remarks.  The 
fresh  air  and  brisk  motion  had  somewhat 
aroused  Bethany  from  her  apathy.  First,  she 
began  to  be  interested  in  the  constantly-chang- 
ing view,  and  then  she  noticed  its  effect  on 
the  erratic  man  beside  her. 

From  the  time  they  commenced  to  ascend 
the  ridge  he  had  not  spoken  to  any  one  directly. 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    51 

but  everything  he  saw  seemed  to  suggest  a  quo- 
tation. He  repeated  them  unconsciously,  as  if 
he  were  all  alone;  some -of  them  dreamily,  some 
of  them  with  startling  force,  and  all  with  the 
slight  brogue  he  spoke  so  musically. 

"Every  common  bush  afire  with  God,"  he 
murmured  in  an  undertone,  looking  at  a  dusty 
wayside  weed,  with  his  soul  in  his  eyes. 

Bethany  thought  to  herself,  afterwards,  that 
if  any  other  man  of  her  acquaintance  had  kept 
up  such  a  steady  string  of  disjointed  quotations, 
it  would  have  been  ridiculous.  She  never  heard 
him  do  it  again  after  that  day.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  old  battle-fields  suggested  thoughts  that 
could  find  no  adequate  expression  save  in  words 
that  immortal  pens  had  made  deathless. 

The  warm  odor  of  ripe  peaches  floated  out 
to  them  from  grassy  orchards,  where  the  trees 
were  bent  over  with  their  wealth  of  velvety,  sun- 
reddened  fruit.  Seemingly,  Cragmore  had 
taken  no  notice  of  Bethany's  depression  when 
she  joined  them,  or  of  the  soothing  effect  na- 
ture was  having  on  her  sore  heart.  But  she 
knew  that  he  had  seen  it,  when  he  turned  to 
her  abruptly  with  a  quotation  that  fitted  her  as 
well  as  his  first  one  had  the  wayside  weed.  He 


52  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

half  sang  it,  with  a  tender,  wistful  smile,  as  he 
watched  her  face. 

"  0  the  green  things  growing,  the  green  things  grow- 
ing— 

The  faint,  sweet  smell  of  the  green  things  growing! 

I  should  like  to  live,  whether  I  smile  or  grieve, 

Just  to  watch  the  happy  life  of  my  green  things 
growing, 

For  by  many  a  tender  touch,  they  comfort  me  so 
much, 

With  the  soft,  mute  comfort  of  green  things  growing." 

Bethany  wondered  if  her  cousin  Frank  had 
told  him  of  all  she  had  suffered,  or  if  he  had 
guessed  it  intuitively.  Somehow  she  felt  that 
he  had  not  been  told,  but  that  he  had  divined  it. 
Yet  when  they  stopped  on  the  Chickamauga 
battle-field,  and  she  saw  him  go  leaping  across 
the  rough  fields  like  an  overgrown  boy,  she 
thought  of  her  cousin  Ray's  remark,  "They  used 
to  call  him  the  wild  Irishman,"  and  wondered 
at  the  contradictory  phases  his  character  pre- 
sented. She  saw  him  pause  and  lay  his  hand 
reverently  on  the  largest  cannon,  and  then  come 
running  back  across  the  furrows  with  long,  awk- 
ward jumps. 

"What  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for,  Crag- 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    53 

more?"  asked  Mr.  Marion,  in  his  teasing  way. 
"The  idea  of  keeping  us  waiting  while  you  were 
racing  across  a  ten-acre  lot  to  pat  an  old  gun." 

"Old  gun,  is  it?"  was  the  laughing  answer, 
yet  there  was  a  .flash  in  his  eyes  that  belied 
the  laugh.  "Odds,  man!  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
orators  that  ever  roused  a  continent.  I  just 
wanted  to  lay  my  hands  on  its  dumb  lips."  He 
waved  his  arm  with  an  exulting  gesture.  "Aye, 
but  they  spoke  in  thunder-tones  once,  the  day 
they  spoke  freedom  to  a  race." 

He  did  not  take  his  seat  in  the  carriage  for 
a  while,  but  followed  at  a  little  distance,  rang- 
ing the  woods  on  both  sides;  sometimes  plung- 
ing into  a  leafy  hollow  to  examine  the  bark 
of  an  old  tree  where  the  shells  had  plowed  deep 
scars;  sometimes  dropping  on  his  knees  to  brush 
away  the  leaves  from  a  tiny  wild-flower,  that  any 
one  but  a  true  woodsman  would  have  passed 
with  unseeing  eyes.  Once  he  brought  a  rare 
specimen  up  to  the  carriage  to  ask  its  name. 
He  had  never  seen  one  like  it  before.  That 
was  the  only  one  he  gathered. 

"It 's  a  pity  to  tear  them  up,  when  they 
would  wither  in  just  a  few  hours,"  he  said;  "the 
solitary  places  are  so  glad  for  them." 


54  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"He  's  a  queer  combination,"  said  Dr.  Bas- 
com,  as  he  watched  him  break  a  little  sprig  of 
cedar  from  the  stump  of  a  battle-broken  tree 
to  put  in  his  card-case.  "Sometimes  he  is  the 
veriest  clown;  at  others,  a  child  could  not  be 
more  artless;  and  I  have  seen  him  a  few  times 
when  he  seemed  to  be  aroused  into  a  spiritual 
giant.  He  fairly  touched  the  stars." 

Bethany  was  so  tired  by  the  morning's  drive 
that  she  did  not  go  to  the  opening  services  in 
the  big  tent  that  afternoon. 

"Well,  you  missed  it!"  said  Mr.  Marion, 
when  he  came  in  after  supper,  "and  so  did 
David  Herschel." 

"Missed  what?"  inquired  Bethany. 

"The  mayor's  address  of  welcome,  this  after- 
noon. You  know  he  is  a  Jew.  Such  a  broad, 
fraternal  speech  must  have  been  a  revelation 
to  a  great  many  of  his  audience.  I  tell  you, 
it  was  fine!  You  're  going  to-night,  are  n't  you, 
Bethany?" 

"]STo,"  she  answered,  "I  want  to  save  myself 
for  the  sunrise  prayer-meeting  on  the  mountain 
to-morrow.  I  saw  the  sun  come  up  over  the 
Tfigi  once.  It  is  a  sight  worth  staying  up  all 
night  to  see." 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    55 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  they  started  up  the  mountain  by  rail.  The 
cars  were  crowded.  People  hung  on  the  straps, 
swaying  back  and  forth  in  the  aisles,  as  the  train 
lurched  around  sudden  curves.  Nothwith- 
standing  the  early  hour,  and  the  discomfort  of 
their  position,  they  sang  all  the  way  up  the 
mountain. 

"Cousin  Ray,"  said  Bethany,  "do  tell  me 
how  these  people  can  sing  so  constantly.  The 
last  thing  I  heard  last  night  before  I  went  to 
sleep  was  the  electric  street-car  going  past  the 
house,  with  a  regular  hallelujah  chorus  on  board. 
Do  you  suppose  they  really  feel  all  they  sing? 
How  can  they  keep  worked  up  to  such  a  pitch 
all  the  time?" 

"You  should  have  been  at  the  tent  last  night, 
dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Marion.  "Then  you 
would  have  gotten  into  the  secret  of  it.  There 
is  an  inspiration  in  great  numbers.  The  audi- 
ences we  are  having  there  are  said  to  be  the 
greatest  ever  gathered  south  of  the  Ohio.  Our 
League  at  home  has  been  doing  very  faithful 
work,  but  I  could  n't  help  wishing  last  night 
that  every  member  could  have  been  present. 
To  see  ten  thousand  faces  lit  up  with  the  same 


56  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

interest  and  the  same  hope,  to  hear  the  battle- 
cry,  'All  for  Christ,'  and  the  Amen  that  rolled 
out  in  response  like  a  volley  of  ten  thousand 
musketry,  would  have  made  them  feel  like  a 
little,  straggling  company  of  soldiers  suddenly 
awakened  to  the  fact  that  they  were  not  fight- 
ing single-handed,  but  that  all  that  great  army 
were  re-enforcing  them.  More  than  that,  these 
were  only  the  advance-guard,  for  over  a  million 
young  people  are  enlisted  in  the  same  cause. 
Think  of  that,  Bethany — a  million  leagued  to- 
gether just  in  Methodism!  Then,  when  "you 
count  with  them  all  the  Christian  Endeavor 
forces,  and  the  Baptist  Unions,  and  the  King's 
Daughters  and  Sons,  and  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Associations,  and  the  Brotherhood  of  St. 
Andrew,  it  looks  like  the  combined  power  ought 
to  revolutionize  the  universe  in  the  next  decade." 

"Then  you  think  it  is  an  inspiration  of  the 
crowds  that  makes  them  sing  all  the  time,"  said 
Bethany. 

"By  no  means!"  answered  Mrs.  Marion. 
"To  be  sure,  it  has  something  to  do  with  it;  but 
to  most  of  this  vast  number  of  young  people, 
their  religion  is  not  a  sentiment  to  be  fanned 
into  spasmodic  flame  by  some  excitement.  It 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.  57 

is  a  vital  force,  that  underlies  every  thought 
and  every  act.  They  will  sing  at  home  over  their 
work,  and  all  by  themselves,  just  as  heartily  as 
they  do  here.  I  remember  seeing  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  one  time,  the  profiles  of  J  ohn  and  Charles 
Wesley  put  side  by  side  on  the  same  medallion. 
I  have  thought,  since  then,  it  is  only  a  half- 
hearted sort  of  Methodism  that  does  not  put 
the  spirit  of  both  brothers  into  its  daily  life — 
that  does  not  wing  its  sermons  with  its  songs." 

Hundreds  of  people  had  already  gathered 
on  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  waiting  the  ap- 
pointed hour.  Mr.  Marion  led  the  way  to  a 
place  where  nature  had  formed  a  great  amphi- 
theater of  the  rocks.  They  seated  themselves 
on  a  long,  narrow  ledge,  overlooking  the  valley. 
They  were  above  the  clouds.  Such  billows  of 
mist  rolled  up  and  hid  the  sleeping  earth  below 
that  they  seemed  to  be  looking  out  on  a  bound- 
less ocean.  The  world  and  its  petty  turmoils 
were  blotted  out.  There  was  only  this  one  gray 
peak  raising  its  solitary  head  in  infinite  space. 
It  was  still  and  solemn  in  the  early  light.  They 
spoke  together  almost  in  whispers. 

"I  can  not  believe  that  any  man  ever  went 
up  into  a  mountain  to  pray  without  feeling  him- 


58  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

self  drawn  to  a  higher  spiritual  altitude,"  said 
Dr.  Bascom. 

Frank  Marion  looked  around  on  the  assem- 
bled crowds,  and  then  said  slowly: 

"Once  a  little  Land  of  five  hundred  met  the 
risen  Lord  on  a  mountain-side  in  Galilee,  and 
were  sent  away  with  the  promise,  'Lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway!'  Think  what  they  accomplished, 
and  then  think  of  the  thousands  here  this  morn- 
ing that  may  go  back  to  the  work  of  the  valley 
with  the  same. promise  and  the  same  power! 
There  ought  to  be  a  wonderful  work  accom- 
plished for  the  Master  this  year." 

Cragmore,  who  had  walked  away  a  little 
distance  from  the  rest,  and  was  watching  the 
eastern  sky,  turned  to  them  with  his  face  alight. 

"See!"  he  cried,  with  the  eagerness  of  a 
child,  and  yet  with  the  appreciation  of  a  poet 
shining  in  his  eyes;  "the  wings  of  the  morn- 
ing rising  out  of  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea." 

He  pointed  to  the  long  bars  of  light  spread- 
ing like  great  naming  pinions  above  the  horizon. 
The  dawn  had  come,  bringing  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth.  In  the  solemn  hush  of  the 
sunrise,  a  voice  began  to  sing,  "Nearer,  my  God, 
to  thee." 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    59 

It  was  as  in  the  days  of  the  old  temple. 
They  had  left  the  outer  courts  and  passed  up 
into  an  inner  sanctuary,  where  a  rolling  cur- 
tain of  cloud  seemed  to  shut  them  in,  till  in 
that  high  Holy  of  Holies  they  stood  face  to 
face  with  the  Shekinah  of  God's  presence. 

Bethany  caught  her  breath.  There  had  been 
times  before  this  when,  carried  along  by  the  im- 
petuous eloquence  of  some  sermon  or  prayer, 
every  fiber  of  her  being  seemed  to  thrill  in  re- 
sponse. In  her  childlike  reaching  out  towards 
spiritual  things,  she  had  had  wonderful  glimpses 
of  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  She  had  gone 
to  him  with  every  experience  of  her  young  life, 
just  as  naturally  and  freely  as  she  had  to  her 
earthly  father.  But  when  beside  the  judge's 
death-bed  she  pleaded  for  his  life  to  be  spared 
to  her  a  little  longer,  and  her  frenzied  appeals 
met  no  response,  she  turned  away  in  rebellious 
silence.  She  would  pray  no  more  to  a  dumb 
heaven,"  she  said  bitterly.  Her  hope  had  been 
vain. 

Now,  as  she  listened  to  songs  and  prayers 
and  testimony,  she  began  to  feel  the  power  that 
emanated  from  them, — the  power  of  the  Spirit, 
showing  her  the  Father  as  she  had  never  known 


60  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

him  before:  the  Father  revealed  through  the 
Son. 

Below,  the  mists  began  to  roll  away  until 
the  hidden  valley  was  revealed  in  all  its  morn- 
ing loveliness.  But  how  small  it  looked  from 
such  a  height!  Moccasin  Bend  was  only  a  sil- 
ver thread.  The  outlying  forests  dwindled  to 
thickets. 

Bethany  looked  up.  The  mists  began  to  roll 
away  from  her  spiritual  vision,  and  she  saw  her 
life  in  relation  to  the  eternities.  Self  dwindled 
out  of  sight.  There  was  no  bitterness  now,  no 
childish  questioning  of  Divine  purposes.  The 
blind  Bartimeus  by  the  wayside,  hearing  the 
cry,  "Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  by,"  and,  grop- 
ing his  way  towards  "the  Light  of  the  world," 
was  no  surer  of  his  dawning  vision  than  Beth- 
any, as  she  joined  silently  in  the  prayer  of  con- 
secration. She  saw  not  only  the  glory  of  the 
June  sunrise;  for  her  the  "Sun  of  righteous- 
ness had  arisen,  with  healing  in  his  wings." 

People  seemed  loath  to  go  when  the  serv- 
ices were  over.  They  gathered  in  little  groups 
on  the  mountain-side,  or  walked  leisurely  from 
one  point  of  view  to  another,  drinking  in  the 
rare  beauty  of  the  morning. 


THE;  SUNRISE;  SERVICE;  ON  L,OOKOUT.    61 

Bethany  walked  on  without  speaking.  She 
was  a  little  in  advance  of  the  others,  and  did 
not  notice  when  the  rest  of  her  party  were 
stopped  by  some  acquaintances.  Absorbed  in 
her  own  thoughts,  she  turned  aside  at  Prospect 
Point,  and  walked  out  to  'the  edge.  As  she 
looked  down  over  the  railing,  the  refrain  of  one 
of  the  songs  that  had  been  sung  so  constantly 
during  the  last  few  days,  unconsciously  rose 
to  her  lips.  She  hummed  it  softly  to  herself, 
over  and  over,  "O,  there 's  sunshine  in  my 
soul  to-day." 

So  oblivious  was  she  of  all  surroundings 
that  she  did  not  hear  Frank  Marion's  quick  step 
behind  her.  He  had  come  to  tell  her  they  were 
going  down  the  mountain  by  the  incline. 

"O,  there's  sunshine,  blessed  sunshine!" 
The  words  came  softly,  almost  under  her  breath ; 
but  he  heard  them,  and  felt  with  a  quick  heart- 
throb that  some  thing  unusual  must  have  oc- 
curred to  bring  any  song  to  her  lips. 

"O  Bethany!"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  mean 
it,  child?  Has  the  light  come?" 

The  face  that  she  turned  towards  him  was 
radiant.  She  could  find  no  words  wherewith 
to  tell  him  her  great  happiness,  but  she  laid  her 


62  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

hands  in  his,  and  the  tears  sprang  to  her 
eyes. 

"Thank  God!  Thank  God!"  he  exclaimed, 
Avith  a  tremor  in  his  strong  voice.  "It  is  what 
I  have  been  praying  for.  Now  you  see  why  I 
urged  you  to  come.  I  knew  what  a  mountain- 
top  of  transfiguration  this  would  be." 

Standing  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
David  Herschel  had  looked  around  with  great 
curiosity  on  the  gathering  thousands.  It  was 
only  a  little  distance  from  the  inn,  and  he  had 
come  down  hoping  to  discover  the  real  motive 
that  had  brought  these  people  together  from 
such  vast  distances.  He  wondered  what  power 
their  creed  contained  that  could  draw  them  to 
this  meeting  at  such  an  early  hour. 

He  had  felt  as  keenly  as  Cragmore  the  sub- 
limity of  the  sunrise.  He  felt,  too,  the  uplift- 
ing power  of  the  old  hymn,  that  song  drawn 
from  the  experience  of  Jacob  at  Bethel,  that 
seemed  to  lift  every  heart  nearer  to  the  Eternal. 

He  was  deeply  stirred  as  the  leader  began 
to  speak  of  the  mountain  scenes  of  the  Bible, 
of  Abraham's  struggles  at  Moriah,  of  Horeb's 
burning  bush,  of  Sinai  and  ^ebo,  of  Mount 
Zion  with  its  thousand  hallowed  memories.  So 


THE  SUNRISE  SERVICE  ON  LOOKOUT.    63 

far  the  young  Jew  could  follow  him,  but  not  to 
the  greater  heights  of  the  Mountain  of  Beati- 
tudes, of  Calvary,  or  of  Olivet. 

He  had  never  heard  such  prayers  as  the  ones 
that  followed.  Although  there  can  be  found 
no  sublimer  utterances  of  worship,  no  humbler 
confessions  of  penitence  or  more  lofty  concep- 
tions of  Jehovah,  than  are  bound  in  the  rituals 
of  Judaism,  these  simple  outpourings  of  the 
heart  were  a  revelation  to  him. 

There  came  again  the  fulfillment  of  the 
deathless  words,  "And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will 
draw  all  men  unto  me!"  O,  how  the  lowly 
Nazarene  was  lifted  up  that  morning  in  that 
great  gathering  of  his  people!  How  his  name 
was  exalted!  All  up  and  down  old  Lookout 
Mountain,  and  even  across  the  wide  valley  of 
the  Tennessee,  it  was  echoed  in  every  song  and 
prayer. 

When  the  testimony  service  began,  David 
turned  from  one  speaker  to  another.  What 
had  they  come  so  far  to  tell?  From  every 
State  in  the  Union,  from  Canada,  and  from 
foreign  shores,  they  brought  only  one  story — 
"Behold  the  Lamb  of  God!"  In  spite  of  him- 
self, the  young  Jew's  heart  was  strangely  drawn 


64  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

to  this  uplifted  Christ.  Suddenly  he  was 
startled  by  a  ringing  voice  that  cried:  "I  am  a 
converted  Jew.  1  was  brought  to  Christ  by  a 
little  girl— a  member  of  the  Junior  League. 
I  have  given  up  wife,  mother,  father,  sisters, 
brothers,  and  fortune,  but  I  have  gained  so  much 
that  I  can  say  from  the  depths  of  my  soul,  'Take 
all  the  world,  but  give  me  Jesus.'  I  have  con- 
secrated my  life  to  his  service." 

David  changed  his  position  in  order  to  get 
a  better  view  of  the  speaker.  He  scrutinized 
him  closely.  He  studied  his  face,  his  dress, 
even  his  attitude,  to  determine,  if  possible,  the 
character  of  this  new  witness.  He  saw  a  man 
of  medium  height,  broad  forehead,  arid  firm 
mouth  ovci-  which  drooped  a  heavy,  dark  mus- 
tache. There  was  nothing  fanatical  in  the  calm 
face  or  dignified  bearing.  His  eyes,  which  were 
large,  dark,  and  magnetic,  met  David's  with  a 
steady  gaze,  and  seemed  to  hold  them  for  a 
moment. 

With  a  lawyer-like  instinct,  David  longed  to 
probe  this  man  with  questions.  As  he  went 
back  to  the  inn,  he  resolved  to  hunt  up  his  his- 
tory, and  find  what  had  induced  him  to  turn 
away  from  the  faith. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
AN   EPWORTH  JEW. 

i 

EARLY  every  northern-bound  mail- 
train,  since  Bethany's  arrival  in  Chat- 
tanooga, had  carried  something  home 
to  Jack — a  paper,  a  postal,  souve- 
nirs from  the  battle-fields,  or  views  of  the  moun- 
tain. Knowing  how  eagerly  he  watched  for  the 
postman's  visits,  she  never  let  a  day  pass  with- 
out a  letter.  Saturday  morning  she  even  missed 
part  of  the  services  at  the  tent  in  order  to  write 
to  him. 

"  I  have  just  come  back  from  Grant  Uni- 
versity," she  wrote.  "Cousin  Frank  was  so  in- 
terested in  the  Jew  who  spoke  at  the  sunrise 
meeting  yesterday,  because  he  said  a  little  Jun- 
ior League  girl  had  been  the  means  of  his 
conversion,  that  he  arranged  for  an  interview 
with  him.  His  name  is  Lessing.  Cousin  Frank 
asked  me  to  go  with  him  to  take  the  conver- 
sation do\vn  in  shorthand  for  the  League.  I 
5  65 


66  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

have  n't  time  now  to  give  all  the  details,  but 
will  tell  them  to  you  when  I  come  home." 

Bethany  had  been  intensely  interested  in 
the  man's  story.  They  sat  out  on  one  of  the 
great  porches  of  the  university,  with  the  moun- 
tains in  sight.  They  had  drawn  their  chairs 
aside  to  a  cool,  shady  corner,  where  they  would 
not  be  interrupted  by  the  stream  of  people  con- 
stantly passing  in  and  out. 

"It  is  for  the  children  you  want  my  story," 
he  said;  "so  they  must  know  of  my  childhood. 
It  was  passed  in  Baltimore.  My  father  was  the 
strictest  of  orthodox  Jews,  and  I  was  very  faith- 
fully trained  in  the  observances  of  the  law.  He 
taught  me  Hebrew,  and  required  a  rigid  ad- 
herence to  all  the  customs  of  the  synagogue." 

Bethany  rapidly  transcribed  his  words,  as 
he  told  many  interesting  incidents  of  his  early 
home  life.  He  had  come  to  Chattanooga  for 
business  reasons,  married,  and  opened  a  store 
in  St.  Elmo,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Lookout. 
He  was  very  fond  of  children,  and  made  friends 
with  all  who  came  into  the  store.  There  was 
one  little  girl,  a  fair,  curly-haired  child,  who  used 
to  come  oftener  than  the  others.  She  grew  to 
love  him  dearly,  and,  in  her  baby  fashion, 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  67 

often  talked  to  him  of  the  Junior  League,  in 
which  she  was  deeply  interested. 

Her  distress  when  she  discovered  that  he 
did  not  love  Christ  was  pitiful.  She  insisted  so 
on  his  going  to  _Church,  that  one  morning  he 
finally  consented,  just  to  please  her.  The  ser- 
mon worried  him  all  day.  It  had  been  an- 
nounced that  the  evening  service  would  be  a 
continuation  of  the  same  subject.  He  went  at 
night,  and  was  so  impressed  with  the  truth  of 
what  he  heard,  that  when  the  child  came  for 
him  to  go  to  prayer-meeting  with  her  the  next 
week,  he  did  not  refuse. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  service  the  min- 
ister asked  if  any  one  present  wished  to  pray 
for  friends.  The  child  knelt  down  beside  Mr. 
Lessing,  and  to  his  great  embarrassment  began 
to  pray  for  him.  "O  Lord,  save  Brother  Les- 
sing!" was  all  she  said,  but  she  repeated  it  over 
and  over  with  such  anxious  earnestness,  that  it 
went  straight  to  his  heart. 

He  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  her,  and 
began  praying  for  himself.  It  was  not  long 
until  he  was  on  his  feet  again,  joyfully  confess- 
ing the  Christ  he  had  been  taught  to  despise. 
In  the  enthusiasm  of  this  new-found  happiness 


68  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

he  went  home  and  tried  to  tell  his  wife  of  the 
Messiah  he  had  accepted,  but  she  indignantly 
refused  to  listen.  Eor  months  she  berated  and 
ridiculed  him.  When  she  found  that  not  only 
were  tears  and  arguments  of  no  avail,  but  that 
he  felt  he  must  consecrate  his  life  to  the  min- 
istry, she  declared  she  would  leave  him.  He 
sold  the  store,  and  gave  her  all  it  brought;  and 
she  went  back  to  her  family  in  Florida. 

In  order  to  prepare  for  the  ministry  he 
entered  the  university,  working  outside  of  study 
hours  at  anything  he  could  find  to  do.  In  the 
meantime  he  had  written  to  his  parents,  know- 
ing how  greatly  they  would  be  distressed,  yet 
hoping  their  great  love  would  condone  the 
offense. 

His  father's  answer  was  cold  and  business- 
like. He  said  that  no  disgrace  could  have  come 
to  him  that  could  have  hurt  him  so  deeply  as 
the  infidelity  of  his  trusted  son.  If  he  would 
renounce  this  false  faith  for  the  true  faith  of 
his  fathers,  he  would  give  him  forty  thousand 
dollars  outright,  and  also  leave  him  a  legacy  of 
the  same  amount.  But  should  he  refuse  the 
offer,  he  should  be  to  him  as  a  stranger — the 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  69 

doors  of  both  his  heart  and  his  house  should 
be  forever  barred  against  him. 

His  mother,  with  a  woman's  tact,  sent  the 
pictures  of  all  the  family,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  several  years.  Their  faces  called  up  so 
many  happy  memories  of  the  past  that  they 
pleaded  more  eloquently  than  words.  It  was 
a  sweet,  loving  letter  she  wrote  to  her  boy,  re- 
minding him  of  all  they  had  been  to  each  other, 
and  begging  him  for  her  sake  to  come  back  to 
the  old  faith.  But  right  at  the  last  she  wrote: 
"If  you  insist  on  clinging  to  this  false  Christ, 
whom  we  have  taught  you  to  despise,  the  heart 
of  your  father  and  of  your  mother  must  be 
closed  against  you,  and  you  must  be  thrust  out 
from  us  forever  with  our  curse  upon  you."1 

He  knew  it  was  the  custom.  He  had  been 
present  once  when  the  awful  anathema  was 
hurled  at  a  traitor  to  the  faith,  withdrawing 
every  right  from  the  outlaw,  living  or  dead.  He 
knew  that  his  grave  would  be  dug  in  the  Jewish 
cemetery  in  Baltimore;  that  the  rabbi  would 
read  the  rites  of  burial  over  his  empty  coffin, 
and  that  henceforth  his  only  part  in  the  fam- 
ily life  would  be  the  blot  of  his  disgraceful 
memory. 


70  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

He  spread  the  pictures  and  the  letters  on  the 
desk  before  him.  A  cold  perspiration  broke 
out  on  his  forehead,  as  he  realized  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  alternative  offered  him.  One  by 
one  he  took  up  the  photographs  of  his  brothers 
and  sisters,  looked  at  them  long  and  fondly, 
and  laid  them  aside;  then  his  father's,  with  its 
strong,  proud  face.  He  put  that  away,  too. 

At  last  he  picked  up  his  mother's  picture. 
She  looked  straight  out  at  him,  with  such  a 
world  of  loving  tenderness  in  the  smiling  eyes, 
with  such  trustful  devotion,  as  if  she  knew  he 
could  not  resist  the  appeal,  that  he  turned  away 
his  head.  The  trial  seemed  greater  than  he 
could  bear.  He  was  trembling  with  the  force 
of  it/  Then  he  looked  again  into  the  dear,  pa- 
tient face,  till  his  eyes  grew  too  dim  to  see.  It 
was  the  same  old  mother  who  had  nursed  him, 
who  had  loved  him,  who  had  borne  with  his 
waywardness  and  forgiven  him  always.  He 
seemed  to  feel  the  soft  touch  of  her  lips  on  his 
forehead  as  she  bent  over  to  give  him  a  good- 
night kiss.  All  that  she  had  ever  done  for  him 
came  rushing  through  his  memory  so  over- 
whelmingly that  he  broke  down  utterly,  and 
began  to  sob  like  a  child.  "0,  I  can't  give  her 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  71 

up,"  lie  groaned.  "My  dear  old  mother!  I 
can't  grieve  her  so!" 

All  that  morning  he  clung  to  her  picture, 
sometimes  walking  the  floor  in  his  agony,  some- 
times falling  on  Jiis  knees  to  pray.  "God  in 
heaven  have  pity,"  he  cried.  "That  a  man 
should  have  to  choose  between  his  mother  and 
his  Christ!"  At  last  he  rose,  and,  with  one  more 
long  look  at  the  picture,  laid  it  reverently  away 
with  shaking  hands.  He  had  surrendered  every- 
thing. 

He  did  not  tell  all  this  to  his  sympathizing 
listeners.  They  could  read  part  of  the  pathos 
of  that  struggle  in  his  face,  part  in  the  voice 
that  trembled  occasionally,  despite  his  strong 
effort  to  control  it. 

Frank  Marion's  thoughts  went  back  to  his 
own  gentle  mother  in  the  old  homestead  among 
the  green  hills  of  Kentucky.  As  he  thought 
of  the  great  pillar  of  strength  her  unfaltering 
faith  had  been  to  him,  of  how  from  boyhood  it 
had  upheld  and  comforted  and  encouraged  him, 
of  how  much  he  had  always  depended  upon  her 
love  and  her  prayers,  his  sympathies  were  stirred 
to  their  depths.  He  reached  out  and  took  Les- 
sing's  hand  in  his  strong  grasp. 


72  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"God  help  you,  brother!"  he  said,  fervently. 

Bethany  turned  her  head  aside,  and  looked 
away  into  the  hazy  distances.  She  knew  what 
it  meant  to  feel  the  breaking  of  every  tie  that 
bound  her  best  beloved  to  her.  She  knew  what 
it  was  to  have  only  pictured  faces  to  look  into, 
and  lay  away  with  the  pain  of  passionate  long- 
ing. The  question  flashed  into  her  mind,  could 
she  have  made  the  voluntary  surrender  that  he 
had  made?  She  put  it  from  her  with  a  throb 
of  shame  that  she  was  glad  that  she  had  not 
been  so  tested. 

Some  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Marion,  passing 
down  the  steps,  recognized  him,  and  called  back: 

"What  time  does  your  speech  come  on  the 
program,  Frank?  I  understand  you  are  to  hold 
forth  to-day." 

Mr.  Marion  hastily  excused  himself  for  a 
moment,  to  speak  to  his  friend. 

Bethany  sat  silent,  thinking  intently,  while 
she  drew  unmeaning  dots  and  dashes  over  the 
cover  of  her  note-book. 

Mr.  Lessing  turned  to  her  abruptly.  "Did 
you  ever  speak  to  a  Jew  about  your  Savior?" 
he  asked,  with  such  startling  directness,  that 
Bethany  was  confused. 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  73 

"No,"  she  said,   hesitatingly. 

"Why?"  he  asked. 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  a  penetrating 
gaze  that  seemed  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"Really,"  she -answered,  "I  have  never  con- 
sidered the  question.  I  am  not  very  well  ac- 
quainted with  any,  for  one  reason;  besides,  I 
would  have  felt  that  I  was  treading  on  forbidden 
grounds  to  speak  to  a  Jew  about  religion. 
They  have  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  so  in- 
trenched in  their  beliefs,  so  proof  against  argu- 
ment, that  it  would  be  both  a  useless  and  thank- 
less undertaking." 

"They  may  seem  invulnerable  to  argu- 
ments," he  answered,  "but  nobody  is  proof 
against  a  warm,  personal  interest.  Ah,  Miss 
Hallam,  it  seems  a  terrible  thing  to  me.  The 
Church  will  make  sacrifices,  will  cross  the  seas, 
will  overcome  almost  any  obstacle  to  send  the 
gospel  to  China  or  to  Africa,  anywhere  but  to 
the  Jews  at  their  elbows.  O,  of  course,  I  know 
there  are  a  few  Hebrew  missions,  scattered  here 
and  there  through  the  large  cities,  and  a  few 
earnest  souls  are  devoting  their  entire  energy 
to  the  work.  But  suppose  every  Christian  in 
the  country  became  an  evangel  to  the  little 


74  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

community  of  Jews  within  the  radius  of  his  in- 
fluence. Suppose  a  practical,  prayerful,  indi- 
vidual effort  were  made  to  show  them  Christ, 
with  the  same  zeal  you  expend  in  sending  'the 
old  story'  to  the  Hottentots.  What  would  be 
the  result?  O,  if  I  had  waited  for  a  grown 
person  to  speak  to  me  about  it,  I  might  have 
waited  until  the  day  of  my  death.  I  was  rest- 
less. I  was  dissatisfied.  I  felt  that  I  needed 
something  more  than  my  creed  could  give  me. 
For  what  is  Judaism  now?  I  read  an  answer 
not  long  ago:  *A  religion  of  sacrifice,  to  which, 
for  eighteen  centuries,  no  sacrifice  has  been 
possible;  a  religion  of  the  Passover  and  the  Day 
of  Atonement,  on  which,  for  well-nigh  two  mil- 
lenniums, no  lamb  has  been  slain  and  no  atone- 
ment offered;  a  sacerdotal  religion,  with  only 
the  shadow  of  a  priesthood;  a  religion  of  a 
temple  which  has  no  temple  more;  its  altar  is 
quenched,  its  ashes  scattered,  no  longer  kind- 
ling any  enthusiasm,  nor  kindled  by  any  hope.'* 
No  man  ever  took  me  by  the  hand  and  told  me 
about  the  peace  I  have  now.  ~No  man  ever 
shared  with  me  his  hope,  or  pointed  out  the  way 
for  me  to  find  it.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the 


*  Archdeacon  Farrar. 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  75 

blessed  guiding  influence  of  a  little  child,  my 
hungry  heart  might  still  be  crying  out  un- 
satisfied." 

He  went  on  to  repeat  several  conversations 
he  had  had  with  men  of  his  own  race,  to  show 
her  how  this  indifference  of  Christians  was 
reckoned  against  them  as  a  glaring  inconsistency 
by  the  Jews.  Almost  as  if  some  one  had  spoken 
the  words  to  her,  she  seemed  to  hear  the  con- 
demnation, "I  was  a  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me 
no  meat.  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  no 
drink.  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not 
in.  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  not  to  me." 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Bethany's  interpre- 
tation of  that  Scripture  had  always  been  in  a 
temporal  sense.  More  than  once,  when  a  child, 
she  had  watched  her  mother  feed  some  poor 
beggar,  with  the  virtuous  feeling  that  that  con- 
demnation could  not  apply  to  the  Hallam  fam- 
ily. But  now  Lessing's  impassioned  appeal  had 
awakened  a  different  thought.  Who  so  hun- 
gered as  those  who,  reaching  out  for  bread, 
grasped  either  the  stones  of  a  formal  ritualism 
or  the  abandoned  hope  of  prophecy  unfulfilled? 
Who  such  "strangers  within  the  gates"  of  the 


76  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

nations  as  this  race  without  a  country?  From 
the  brick-kilns  of  Pharaoh  to  the  willows  of 
Babylon,  from  the  Ghetto  of  Rome  to  the 
fagot-fires  along  the  Rhine,  from  Spanish 
cruelties  to  English  extortions,  they  had  been 
driven — exiles  and  aliens.  The  New  World  had 
\velcomed  them.  The  New  World  had  opened 
all  its  avenues  to  them.  Only  from  the  door 
of  Christian  society  had  they  turned  away,  say- 
ing, "I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not  in." 

In  the  pause  that  followed,  Bethany's  heart 
went  out  in  an  earnest  prayer:  "O  God,  in  the 
great  day  of  thy  judgment,  let  not  that  con- 
demnation be  mine.  Only  send  me  some  op- 
portunity, show  me  some  way  whereby  I  may 
lead  even  one  of  the  least  among  them  to  the 
world's  Redeemer!" 

Mr.  Marion  came  back  from  his  interview, 
looking  at  his  watch  as  he  did  so.  It  was  so  near 
time  for  services  to  begin  at  the  tent,  that  he 
did  not  resume  his  seat. 

"We  may  never  meet  again,  Mr.  Lessing," 
said  Bethany,  holding  out  her  hand  as  she  bade 
him  good-bye.  "So  I  want  to  tell  you  before 
I  go,  what  an  impression  this  conversation  has 
made  upon  me.  It  has  aroused  an  earnest  de- 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  77 

sire  to  be  the  means  of  carrying  the  hope  that 
comforts  me,  to  some  one  among  your  people." 

"You  will  succeed,"  he  said,  looking  into 
her  earnest  upturned  face.  Then  he  added 
softly,  in  Hebrew,  the  old  benediction  of  an 
olden  day — "Peace  be  unto  you." 

All  that  day,  after  the  sunrise  meeting, 
David  Herschel  had  been  with  Major  Herrick, 
going  over  the  battle-fields,  and  listening  to  per- 
sonal reminiscences  of  desperate  engagements. 
A  monument  was  to  be  erected  on  the  spot 
where  nearly  all  the  major's  men  had  fallen 
in  one  of  the  most  hotly-contested  battles  of  the 
war.  He  had  come  down  to  help  locate  the 
place. 

"It 's  a  very  different  reception  they  are 
giving  us  now,"  remarked  the  major,  as  they 
drove  through  the  city. 

Epworth  League  colors  were  flying  in  all  di- 
rections. Every  street  gleamed  with  the  white 
and  red  banners  of  the  North,  crossed  with  the 
white  and  gold  of  the  South. 

"Chattanooga  is  entertaining  her  guests 
royally;  people  of  every  denomination,  and  of 
no  faith  at  all,  are  vying  with  each  other  to 
show  the  kindliest  hospitality.  We  are  missing 


78  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

it  by  being  at  the  hotel.  I  told  Mrs.  Herrick 
and  the  girls  I  would  meet  them  at  the  tent  this 
evening.  Will  you  come,  too?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  replied  David,  "my  curi- 
osity was  satisfied  this  morning.  I  '11  go  on 
up  to  the  inn.  I  have  a  letter  to  write." 

The  major  laughed. 

"It 's  a  letter  that  has  to  be  written  every 
day,  isn't  it?"  he  said,  banteringly.  "Well, 
I  can  sympathize  with  you,  my  boy.  I  was 
young  myself  once.  Conferences  are  n't  to  be 
taken  into  account  at  all  when  a  billet-doux 
needs  answering." 

The  next  day  David  kept  Marta  with  him 
as  much  as  possible.  He  could  see  that  she 
was  becoming  greatly  interested,  and  catching 
much  of  Albert  Herrick's  enthusiasm.  The  boy 
was  a  great  League  worker,  and  attended  every 
meeting. 

David  took  Marta  a  long  walk  over  the 
mountain  paths.  They  sat  on  the  wide,  vine- 
hung  veranda  of  the  inn,  and  read  together. 
Then,  as  it  was  their  Sabbath,  he  took  her  up 
to  his  room,  and  read  some  of  the  ritual  of  the 
day,  trying  to  arouse  in  her  some  interest  for 
the  old  customs  of  their  childhood. 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  79 

To  his  great  dismay,  he  found  that  she  had 
drifted  away  from  him.  She  was  not  the  yield- 
ing child  she  had  been,  whom  he  had  been  able 
to  influence  with  a  word. 

She  showed  a  disposition  to  question  and 
contend,  that  annoyed  him.  The  rabbi  was 
right.  She  had  been  left  too  long  among  con- 
taminating influences. 

It.was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  woke 
Sunday  morning  to  hear  the  rain  beating  vio- 
lently against  the  windows.  He  was  glad  on 
her  account  that  the  storm  would  prevent  them 
going  down  into  the  city.  But  toward  evening 
the  sun  came  out,  and  Frances  Herrick  began 
to  insist  on  going  down  to  the  night  service 
in  the  tent. 

"It  is  the  last  one  there  will  be!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I  would  n't  miss  it  for  anything." 

"Neither  would  I,"  responded  Marta. 
"There  is  something  so  inspiring  in  all  that  great 
chorus  of  voices." 

When  David  found  that  his  sister  really  in- 
tended to  go,  notwithstanding  his  remonstrances, 
and  that  the  family  were  waiting  for  her  in 
the  hall  below,  he  made  no  further  protest, 


80  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

but  surprised  her  by  taking  his  hat,  and  tuck- 
ing her  hand  in  his  arm. 

"Then  I  will  go  with  you,  little  sister,"  he 
said.  "I  want  to  have  as  much  of  your  com- 
pany as  possible  during  my  short  visit." 

Albert  Herrick,  who  was  waiting  for  her 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  divined  David's  pur- 
pose in  keeping  his  sister  so  close.  He  lifted 
his  eyebrows  slightly  as  he  turned  to  take  his 
mother's  wraps,  leaving  Frances  to  follow  with 
the  major. 

The  tent  was  crowded  when  they  reached 
it.  They  succeeded  with  great  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining several  chairs  in  one  of  the  aisles. 

"Herschel  and  I  will  go  back  to  the  side," 
said  Albert.  "The  audience  near  the  entrance 
is  constantly  shifting,  and  we  can  slip  into  the 
first  vacant  seat;  some  will  be  sure  to  get 
tired  and  go  out  before  long.  They  always  do." 

It  was  the  first  time  David  had  been  in 
the  tent,  and  he  was  amazed  at  the  enormous 
audience.  He  leaned  against  one  of  the  side 
supports,  watching  the  people,  still  intent  on 
crowding  forward.  Suddenly  his  look  of  idle 
curiosity  changed  to  one  of  lively  interest.  He 
recognized  the  face  of  the  Jew  who  had  at- 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  81 

tracted  him  in  the  mountain  meeting.  Isaac 
Lessing  was  in  the  stream  of  people  pressing 
slowly  towards  him. 

Nearer  and  nearer  he  came.  The  crowd 
at  the  door  pushed  harder.  The  fresh  impetus 
jostled  them  almost  off  their  feet,  and  in  the 
crush  Lessing  was  caught  and  held  directly  in 
front  of  David.  Some  magnetic  force  in  the 
eyes  of  each  held  the  gaze  of  the  other  for 
a  moment.  Then  Lessing,  recognizing  the  com- 
mon bond  of  blood,  smiled. 

That  ringing  cry,  "I  am  a  converted  Jew," 
had  sounded  in  David's  ears  ever  since  it  first 
startled  him.  He  felt  confident  that  the  man 
was  laboring  under  some  strong  delusion,  and 
he  wished  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity 
to  dispel  it  by  skillful  arguments,  and  win  him 
back  to  the  old  faith. 

Seized  by  an  impulse  as  sudden  as  it  was 
irresistible,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  stranger's 
arm. 

"I  want  to  speak  with  you,"  he  said,  hur- 
riedly, and  in  a  low  tone.  "Come  this  way. 
I  will  not  detain  you  long." 

He  drew  him  out  of  the  press  into  one  of 

the  side  aisles,  and  thence  towards  the  exit. 
6 


82  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Will  you  walk  a  few  steps  witli  me?"  lie 
asked;  "I  want  to  ask  you  several  questions." 

Lessing  complied  quietly. 

The  sound  of  a  cornet  followed  them  with 
the  pleading  notes  of  an  old  hymn.  It  was 
like  the  mighty  voice  of  some  archangel  sound-, 
ing  a  call  to  prayer.  Then  the  singing  began. 
Song  after  song  rolled  out  on  the  night  air 
across  the  common  to  a  street  where  two  men 
paced  back  and  fortli  in  the  darkness.  They 
were  arm  in  arm.  David  was  listening  to  the 
same  story  that  Bethany  and  Frank  Marion 
had  heard  the  day  before.  He  could  not  help 
but  be  stirred  by  it.  Lessing's  voice  was  so 
earnest,  his  faith  was  so  sure.  When  he  was 
through,  David  was  utterly  silenced.  The  ques- 
tions with  which  he  had  intended  to  probe  this 
man's  claims  were  already  answered. 

"We  might  as  well  go  back,"  he  said  at  last. 
As  they  walked  slowly  towards  the  tent,  he  said: 
"I  can't  understand  you.  I  feel  all  the  time 
that  you  have  been  duped  in  some  way;  that 
you  are  under  the  spell  of  some  mysterious  power 
that  deludes  you." 

Just  as    they  passed  within    the    tent,  the 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  83 

cornet  sounded  again,  the  great  congregation 
rose,  and  ten  thousand  voices  went  up  as  one: 
"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 
Let  angels  prostrate  fall !" 

The  sight  was  a  magnificent  one;  the  sound 
like  an  ocean-beat  of  praise.  Lessing  seized 
David's  arm. 

"That  is  the  power!"  he  exclaimed.  "Not 
only  does  it  uplift  all  these  thousands  you  see 
here,  but  millions  more,  all  over  this  globe.  It  is 
nearly  two  thousand  years  since  this  Jesus  was 
known  among  men.  Could  he  transform  lives 
to-night,  as  mine  has  been  transformed,  if  his 
power  were  a  delusion?  What  has  brought 
them  all  these  miles,  if  not  this  same  power? 
Look  at  the  class  of  people  who  have  been 
duped,  as  you  call  it."  He  pointed  to  the  plat- 
form. "Bishops,  college  presidents,  editors, 
men  of  marked  ability  and  with  world-wide  rep- 
utation for  worth  and  scholarship." 

At  the  close  of  the  hymn  some  one  moved 
over,  and  made  room  for  David  on  one  of  the 
benches.  Lessing  pushed  farther  to  the  front. 
David  listened  to  all  that  was  said  with 
a  sort  of  pitying  tolerance,  until  the  sermon 


84  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

began.  The  bishop's  opening  words  caught  his 
attention,  and  echoed  in  his  memory  for  months 
afterward. 

"Paul  knew  Christ  as  he  had  studied  him, 
and  as  he  appeared  to  him  when  he  did  not 
believe  in  him — when  he  despised  him.  Then 
he  also  knew  Christ  after  his  surrender  to  him; 
after  Christ  had  entered  into  his  life,  and 
changed  the  character  of  his  being;  after  new 
meanings  of  life  and  destiny  filled  his  horizon, 
after  the  Divine  tenderness  filled  to  complete- 
ness his  nature;  then  was  he  in  possession  of 
a  knowledge  of  Christ,  of  an  experience  of  his 
presence  and  of  his  love  that  was  a  benediction 
to  him,  and  has  through  the  centuries  since 
that  hour  been  a  blessing  to  men  wherever  the 
gospel  has  been  preached. 

"It  is  such  a  man  speaking  in  this  text.  A 
man  with  a  singularly  strong  mind,  well  disci- 
plined, with  great  will-power;  a  man  with  a 
great  ancestry;  a  man  with  as  mighty  a  soul  as 
ever  tabernacled  in  flesh  and  blood.  He  pro- 
claimed everywhere  that,  if  need  be,  he  was 
ready  to  die  for  the  principles  out  of  which  had 
come  to  him  a  new  life,  and  which  had  brought 
to  his  heart  experiences  so  rich  and  so  over- 


AN  EPWORTH  JEW.  85 

whelming  in  happiness,  that  he  was  led  to  do 
and  undertake  what  he  knew  would  lead  at  the 
last  to  a  martyr's  death  and  crown.  Why? 
Hear  him:  Tor  the  love  of  Christ  constrain- 
eth  us.'  " 

There  was  a  testimony  service  following  the 
sermon.  As  David  watched  the  hundreds  ris- 
ing to  declare  their  faith,  he  wondered  why  they 
should  thus  voluntarily  come  forward  as  wit- 
nesses. Then  the  text  seemed  to  repeat  itself 
in  answer,  "For  the  love  of  Christ  constrain- 
eth  us!" 

He  dreamed  of  Lessing  and  Paul  all  night. 
He  was  glad  when  the  conference  was  at  an 
end;  when  the  decorations  were  taken  down 
from  the  streets,  and  the  last  car-load  of  irre- 
pressible enthusiasts  went  singing  out  of  the 
city. 

Albert  Herrick  went  to  the  seashore  that 
week.  David  proposed  taking  Marta  home  with 
him;  but  her  objections  were  so  heartily  re- 
enforced  by  the  whole  family  that  he  quietly 
dropped  the  subject,  and  went  back  to  Kabbi 
Barthold  alone. 


CHAPTER  V. 
"  TRUST." 

"  Alas !  we  can  not  draw  habitual  breath  in  the 
thin  air  of  life's  supremer  heights.  We  can  not  make 
each  meal  a  sacrament." — Lowell. 

T  had  seemed  to  Bethany,  in  the 
experience  of  that  sunrise  on  Look- 
out Mountain,  she  could  never  feel 
despondent  again;  but  away  from 
the  uplifting  influences  of  the  place,  back 
among  the  painful  memories  of  the  old  home, 
she  fought  as  hard  a  fight  with  her  returning 
doubts  as  ever  Christian  did  in  his  Valley  of 
Humiliation. 

For  a  week  since  her  return  the  weather 
had  been  intensely  warm.  It  made  Jack  irri- 
table, and  sapped  her  own  strength. 

There  came  a  day  when  everything  went 
wrong.  She  had  practiced  her  shorthand  exer- 
cises all  morning,  until  her  head  ached  almost  be- 
yond endurance.  The  grocer  presented  a  bill 

much  larger  than  she  had  expected.    While  he 
86 


TRUST.  87 

was  receipting  it,  a  boy  came  to  collect  for  the 
gas,  and  there  were  only  two  dimes  left  in  her 
purse.  Then  Jack  upset  a  little  cut-glass  vase 
that  was  standing  on  the  table  beside  him.  It 
was  broken  beyond  repair,  and  the  water  ruined 
the  handsome  binding  of  a  borrowed  book  that 
would  have  to  be  replaced. 

About  noon  Dr.  Trent  called  to  see  Jack. 
He  had  brought  a  new  kind  of  brace  that  he 
wanted  tried. 

"It  will  help  him  amazingly,"  he  said,  "but 
it  is  very  expensive." 

Bethany's  heart  sank.  She  thought  of  the 
pipes  that  had  sprung  a  leak  that  morning,  of 
the  broken  pump,  and  the  empty  flour-barrel. 
She  could  not  see  where  all  the  money  they 
needed  was  to  come  from. 

"It 's  too  small,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a 
careful  trial  of  the  brace.  "The  size  larger 
will  be  just  the  thing.  I  will  bring  it  in  the 
morning." 

He  wiped  his  forehead  wearily  as  he  stopped 
on  the  threshold. 

"A  storm  must  be  brewing,"  he  remarked. 
"It  is  so  oppressively  sultry." 

It  was  not  many  hours  before  his  predic- 


88  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

tion  was  verified  by  a  sudden  windstorm  that 
came  up  with  terrific  force.  The  trees  in  the 
avenue  were  lashed  violently  back  and  forth 
until  they  almost  swept  the  earth.  Huge  limbs 
were  twisted  completely  off,  and  many  were 
left  broken  and  hanging.  It  was  followed  by 
hail  and  a  sudden  change  of  temperature,  that 
suggested  winter.  The  roses  were  all  beaten  off 
the  bushes,  their  pink  petals  scattered  over  the 
soaked  grass.  The  porch  was  covered  with 
broken  twigs  and  wet  leaves. 

As  night  dropped  down,  the  trees  bordering 
the  avenue  waved  their  green,  dripping  boughs 
shiveringly  towards  the  house. 

"How  can  it  be  so  cold  and  dreary  in  July?" 
inquired  Jack.  "Let 's  have  a  fire  in  the  library 
and  eat  supper  there  to-night." 

Bethany  shivered.  It  had  been  the  judge's 
favorite  room  in  the  \Vinter,  on  account  of  its 
large  fireplace,  with  its  queer,  old-fashioned 
tiling.  She  rarely  went  in  there  except  to  dust 
the  books  or  throw  herself  in  the  big  arm-chair 
to  cry  over  the  perplexities  that  he  had  always 
shielded  her  from  so  carefully.  But  Jack  in- 
sisted, and  presently  the  flames  went  leaping  up 
the  throat  of  the  wide  chimney,  filling  the  room 


TRUST.  89 

with    comfort  and    the  cheer  of    genial    com- 
panionship. 

"Look!"  cried  Jack,  pointing  through  the 
window  to  the  bright  reflection  of  the  fire  in 
the  garden  outside.  "Do  n't  you  remember 
what  you  read  me  in  'Snowbound?' 

1  Under  the  tree, 

When  fire  outdoors  burns  merrily, 
There  the  witches  are  making  tea.' 

This  would  be  a  fine  night  for  witch  stories. 
The  wind  makes  such  queer  noises  in  the  chim- 
ney. Let 's  tell  'em  after  supper,  all  the  awful 
ones  we  can  think  of,  'specially  the  Salem  ones." 
As  usual,  Jack's  wishes  prevailed.  After- 
ward, when  Bethany  had  tucked  him  snugly  in 
bed,  and  was  sitting  alone  by  the  fire,  listening 
to  the  queer  noises  in  the  chimney,  she  wished 
they  had  not  dwelt  so  long  on  such  a  grewsome 
subject.  She  leaned  back  in  her  father's  great 
arm-chair,  with  her  little  slippered  feet  on  the 
brass  fender,  and  her  soft  hair  pressed  against 
the  velvet  cushions.  Her  white  hands  were 
clasped  loosely  in  her  lap;  small,  helpless  look- 
ing hands,  little  fitted  to  cope  with  the  burdens 
and  responsibilities  laid  upon  her. 


90  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL 

The  judge  had  never  even  permitted  her 
to  open  a  door  for  herself  when  he  had  been 
near  enough  to  do  it  for  her.  But  his  love 
had  made  him  short-sighted.  In  shielding  her 
so  carefully,  he  did  not  see  that  he  was  only 
making  her  more  keenly  sensitive  to  later 
troubles. that  must  come  when  he  was  no  longer 
with  her.  Every  one  was  surprised  at  the  course 
she  determined  upon. 

"I  supposed,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Marion, 
"that  you  would  try  to  teach  drawing  or  water- 
colors,  or  something.  You  have  spent  so  much 
time  on  your  art  studies,  and  so  thoroughly  en- 
joy that  kind  of  work.  Then  those  little  dinner- 
cards,  and  german  favors  you  do,  are  so  beau- 
tiful. I  am  sure  you  have  any  number  of 
friends  who  would  be  glad  to  give  you  orders." 

"]STo,  Cousin  Ray,"  answered  Bethany  de- 
cidedly; "I  must  have  something  that  briiigs 
in  a  settled  income,  something  that  can  be  de- 
pended on.  While  I  have  painted  some  very 
acceptable  things,  I  never  was  cut  out  for  a 
teacher.  I  'd  rather  not  attempt  anything  in 
which  I  can  never  be  more  than  third-rate. 
I  've  decided  to  study  stenography.  I  am  sure 
I  can  master  that,  and  command  a  first-class 


TRUST.  91 

position.  I  have  heard  papa  complain  a  great 
many  times  of  the  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  really 
good  stenographer.  Of  the  hundreds  who  at- 
tempt the  work,  such  a  small  per  cent  are  really 
proficient  enough  to  undertake  court  reporting." 

"You  're  just  like  your  father,"  said  Mrs. 
Marion.  "Uncle  Richard  would  never  be  any- 
thing if  he  could  n't  be  uppermost." 

It  had  been  nearly  a  year  since  that  conver- 
sation. Bethany  had  persevered  in  her  under- 
taking until  she  felt  confident  that  she  had  ac- 
complished her  purpose.  She  was  ready  for 
any  position  that  offered,  but  there  seemed  to 
be  no  vacancies  anywhere.  The  little  sum  in 
the  bank  was  dwindling  away  with  frightful 
rapidity.  She  was  afraid  to  encroach  on  it  any 
furthej,  but  the  bills  had  to  be  met  constantly. 

Presently  she  drew  her  chair  over  to  the 
library  table,  and  spread  out  her  check-book 
and  memoranda  under  the  student-lamp,  to  look 
over  the  accounts  for  the  month  just  ended. 
Then  she  made  a  list  of  the  probable  expenses 
of  the  next  two  months.  The  contrast  between 
their  needs  and  their  means  was  appalling. 

"It  w7ill  take  every  cent!"  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  distressed  whisper.  "When  the  first  of  Sep- 


92  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

tember  comes,  there  will  be  nothing  left  but  to 
sell  the  old  home  and  go  away  somewhere  to  a 
strange  place." 

The  prospect  of  leaving  the  dear  old  place, 
that  had  grown  to  seem  almost  like  a  human 
friend,  was  the  last  drop  that  made  the  day's 
cup  of  misery  overflow.  The  old  doubt  came 
back. 

"I  wonder  if  God  really  cares  for  us  in  a 
temporal  way?"  she  asked  herself. 

The  frightful  tales  of  witchcraft  that  Jack 
had  been  so  interested  in,  recurred  to  her.  Many 
of  the  people  who  had  been  so  fearfully  tor- 
tured and  persecuted  as  witches  were  Chris- 
tians. God  had  not  interfered  in  their  behalf, 
she  told  herself.  Why  should  he  trouble  him- 
self about  her? 

She  went  back  to  her  seat  by  the  fender, 
and,  with  her  chin  resting  in  her  hand,  looked 
drearily  into  the  embers,  as  if  they  could  an- 
swer the  question.  She  heard  some  one  come 
up  on  the  porch  and  ring  the  bell.  It  was  Dr. 
Trent's  quick,  imperative  summons. 

"Jack  in  bed?"  he  asked,  in  his  brisk  way, 
as  she  ushered  him  into  the  library.  "Well,  it 
makes  no  difference;  you  know  how  to  adjust 


TRUST.  93 

the  brace  anyway.  He  will  be  able  to  sit  up  all 
day  with  that  on." 

He  gave  an  appreciative  glance  around  the 
cheerful  room,  and  spread  his  hands  out  towards 
the  fire. 

"Ah,  that  looks  comfortable!"  he  exclaimed, 
rubbing  them  together.  "I  wish  I  could  stay 
and  enjoy  it  with  you.  I  have  just  come  in 
from  a  long  drive,  and  must  answer  another  call 
away  out  in  the  country.  You  'd  be  surprised 
to  find  how  damp  and  chilly  it  is  out  to-night." 

"I  venture  you  never  stopped  at  the 
boarding-house  at  all,"  answered  Bethany,  "and 
that  you  have  not  had  a  mouthful  to  eat  since 
noon.  I  am  going  to  get  you  something.  Yes, 
I  shall,"  she  insisted,  in  spite  of  his  protesta- 
tions. Luckily,  Jack  wanted  the  kettle  hung 
on  the  crane  to-night,  so  that  he  could  hear  it 
sing  as  he  used  to.  "The  water  is  boiling,  and 
you  shall  have  a  cup  of  chocolate  in  no  time." 

Before  he  could  answer,  she  was  out  of  the 
room,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  his  remonstrance. 
He  sank  into  a  big  chair,  and  laying  his  gray 
head  back  on  the  cushions,  wearily  closed  his 
eyes.  He  was  almost  asleep  when  Bethany  came 
back. 


94  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"The  fire  made  me  drowsy,"  lie  said,  apol- 
ogetically. "I  was  quite  exhausted  by  the  in- 
tense heat  of  this  morning.  These  sudden 
changes  of  temperature  are  bad  for  one." 

"Why,  my  child!"  he  exclaimed,  seeing  the 
heavy  tray  she  carried,  "you  have  brought  me 
a  regular  feast.  You  ought  not  to  have  put 
yourself  to  such  trouble  for  an  old  codger 
used  to  boarding-house  fare." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  you  should  have 
a  change  once  in  a  while,"  said  Bethany,  gayly, 
as  she  filled  the  dainty  chocolate-pot. 

The  sight  of  the  doctor's  face  as  she  entered 
the  room  had  almost  brought  the  tears.  It 
looked  so  worn  and  haggard.  She  had  not  no- 
ticed before  how  white  his  hair  was  growing, 
or  how  deeply  his  face  was  lined. 

He  had  been  such  an  intimate  friend  of  her 
father's  that  she  had  grown  up  with  the  feeling 
that  some  strong  link  of  kinship  certainly  ex- 
isted between  them.  She  had  called  him  "Uncle 
Doctor"  until  she  was  nearly  grown.  He  had 
been  so  thoughtful  and  kind  during  all  her 
troubles,  and  especially  in  Jack's  illness,  that 
she  longed  to  show  her  appreciation  by  some  of 


TRUST.  95 

the  tender  little  ministrations  of  which  his  life 
was  so  sadly  'bare. 

"This  is  what  I  call  solid  comfort,"  he  re- 
marked, as  he  stretched  his  feet  towards  the 
fire  and  leisurely  sipped  his  chocolate.  "I 
did  n't  realize  I  was  so  tired  until  I  sat  down, 
or  so  hungry  until  I  began  to  eat."  Then  he 
added,  wistfully,  "Or  how  I  miss  my  own  fire- 
side until  I  feel  the  cheer  of  others'." 

The  doubts  that  had  been  making  Bethany 
miserable  all  evening,  and  that  she  had  forgotten 
in  her  efforts  to  serve  her  old  friend,  came  back 
with  renewed  force. 

"Does  God  really  care?"  she  asked  herself 
again.  Here  was  this  man,  one  of  the  best  she 
had  ever  known,  left  to  stumble  along  under  the 
weight  of  a  living  sorrow,  the  things  he  cared  for 
most,  denied  him. 

"Baxter  Trent  is  one  of  the  world's  heroes," 
she  had  heard  her  father  say. 

There  were  two  things  he  held  dearer  than 
life — the  honor  of  the  old  family  name  that  had 
come  down  to  him  unspotted  through  genera- 
tions, and  his  little  home-loving  wife.  For  fif- 
teen years  he  had  experienced  as  much  of  the 


96  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

happiness  of  home-life  as  a  physician  with  a 
large  practice  can  know.  Then  word  came  to 
him  from  another  city  that  his  only  brother 
had  killed  a  man  in  a  drunken  brawl,  and  then 
taken  his  own  life,  leaving  nothing  but  the 
memory  of  a  wild  career  and  a  heavy  debt.  He 
had  borrowed  a  large  amount  from  an  unsus- 
pecting old  aunt,  and  left  her  almost  penniless. 

When  Dr.  Trent  recovered  from  the  first 
shock  of  the  discovery,  he  quietly  set  to  work  to 
wipe  out  the  disgraceful  record  as  far  as  lay  in 
his  power,  by  assuming  the  debt.  He  could 
eradicate  at  least  that  much  of  the  stain  on  the 
family  name.  It  had  taken  years  to  do  it.  Beth- 
any was  not  sure  that  it  was  yet  accomplished, 
for  another  trial,  worse  than  the  first,  had  come 
to  weaken  his  strength  and  dispel  his  courage. 

The  idolized  little  wife  became  affected  by 
some  nervous  malady  that  resulted  in  hopeless 
insanity. 

Bethany  had  a  dim  recollection  of  the  doc- 
tor's daughter,  a  little  brown-eyed  child  of  her 
own  age.  She  could  remember  playing  hide-and- 
seek  with  her  one  day  in  an  old  peony-garden. 
But  she  had  died  years  ago.  There  was  only  one 
other  child — Lee.  He  had  grown  to  be  a  big 


TRUST.  97 

boy  of  ten  now,  but  he  was  too  young  to  feel 
his  mother's  loss  at  the  time  she  was  taken  away. 
Bethany  knew  that  she  was  still  living  in-  a  pri- 
vate asylum  near  town,  and  that  the  doctor 
saw  her  every  day,  no  matter  how  violent  she 
was.  Lee  was  the  one  bright  spot  left  in  his 
life.  Busy  night  and  day  with  his  patients,  he 
saw  very  little  of  the  boy.  The  child  had  never 
known  any  home  but  a  boarding-house,  and  was 
as  lawless  and  unrestrained  as  some  little  wild 
animal.  But  the  doctor  saw  no  fault  in  him. 
He  praised  the  reports  brought  home  from  school 
of  high  per  cents  in  his  studies,  knowing 
nothing  of  his  open  defiance  to  authority.  He 
kissed  the  innocent-looking  face  on  the  pillow 
next  his  own  when  he  came  in  late  at  night, 
never  dreaming  of  the  forbidden  places  it  had 
been  during  the  day. 

Everybody  said,  "Poor  Baxter  Trent!  It 's 
a  pity  that  Lee  is  such  a  little  terror;"  but  no 
one  warned  him.  Perhaps  he  would  not  have 
believed  them  if  they  had.  The  thought  of 
all  this  moved  Bethany  to  sudden  speech. 

"Uncle  Doctor,"  she  broke  out  impetu- 
ously— she  had  unconsciously  used  the  old 
name — as  she  sat  down  on  a  low  stool  near  his 
7 


98  Ix  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

knee,  *"I  was  piling  up  my  troubles  to-night 
before  yon  came.  Xot  tbe  old  ones.7'  she  added, 
quickly,  as  she  saw  an  expression  of  sympathy 
cross  his  face,  "bin  the  new  ones  that  confront 
inc." 

She  gave  a  mournful  little  smile. 

"  "Coming  events  cast  their  shadow  before,' 
you  know,  and  these  Amdami  look  so  dark  and 
threatening.  I  see  no  possible  way  but  to  sell 
this  home.  Yon  have  had  so  much  to  bear  your- 
self that  it  seems  mean  to  worry  you  with  my 
troubles;  but  I  do  n't  know  what  to  do,  and  I 
do  n't  know  what  *s  the  matter  with  me — " 

She  stopped  abruptly,  and  choked  back  a 
sob.  He  laid  his  hand  softly  on  her  shining 
hair. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it.  child,*'  he  said,  in  a 
soothing  tone.  Then  he  added,  lightly,  "I  can't 
make  a  diagnosis  of  the  case  until  I  know  all 
the  symptoms." 

When  he  had  heard  her  little  outburst  of 
worry  and  distrust,  he  said,  slowly: 

"You  have  done  all  in  your  power  to  prepare 
yourself  for  a  position  as  stenographer.  You 
have  done  all  yon  could  to  secure  such  a  posi- 
tion, and  have  been  unsuccessful.  But  you  still 


TRUST.  M 

have  a  roof  over  jour  bead,  yam  still  lave  enough 
on  hands  to  keep  JOB  two  months  lomyn  with- 
out f^jfag  the  boose  or  even  renting  it — am  ar- 
rangement that  has  not  seemed  to  occur  to  you." 
He  •gMVd  down  into  her  disconsolate  £ace.  •"It 
strikes  me  that  a  certain  little  lass  I  know  has 
been  praying,  ''Give  us  this  day  omr  III  omnmm% 
bread.'  O  Bethany,  child,  cam  jam  never  learn 
to  trust!" 

•"But  isn't  it  right  lor  me  to  be  anxious 
about  providing  some  way  to  keep  the  house  f 
she  cried.  ""Isn't  it  right  to  plan  and  pray 
for  the  future!  You  can 't  reoEae  kov  it  would 
hurt  me  to  give  up  this  place." 

^thinklcan^^heanswcrad.ajentlT.  "You 
forget  I  have  been  called  am  to  make  just  such 
a  sacrifice.  Ton  can  do  it,  toft,  if  it  is  what  the 
All-wise  Father  sees  is  best  for  jou.  Folks  may 
not  think  me  orach  of  aCmtioliom.-  They  rawlv 
see  me  in  Church — my  profession  does  not  al- 
low it.  I  am  mot  demonstrative.  It  is  hard  for 
me  to  speak  of  these  amul  things,  unless  it  is 
when  I  see  seme  poor  soul  about  to  sfip  into 
eternity;  but  I  thank  the  good  Father  I  know 
how  to  trust.  5To  matter  how  he  has  hurt  me, 
I  have  been  able  to  hang  on  to  his  promises, 


100  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

and  say,  'All  right,  Lord.  The  case  is  entirely 
in  your  hands.  Amputate,  if  it  is  necessary; 
cut  to  the  very  heart,  if  you  will.  You  know 
what  is  best.' ' 

He  pushed  the  long  tray  of  dishes  farther 
on  the  .table,  and,  rising  suddenly,  walked  over 
to  the  book-shelves  nearest  the  chimney.  After 
several  moments'  close  scrutiny,  he  took  out  a 
well-worn  book. 

"Ah,  I  thought  it  was  here,"  he  remarked. 
"I  want  to  read  you  a  passage  that  caught  my 
eyes  in  here  once.  I  remember  showing  it  to 
your  father." 

He  turned  the  pages  rapidly  till  he  found  the 
place.  Then  seating  himself  by  the  lamp 
again,  he  began  to  read: 

"It  came  to  my  mind  a  week  or  two  ago, 
so  full  an'  sweet  an'  precious  that  I  can  hardly 
think  of  anything  else.  It  was  during  them 
cold,  northeast  winds;  these  winds  had  made  my 
cough  very  bad,  an'  I  was  shook  all  to  bits,  and 
felt  very  ill.  My  wife  was  sitting  by  my  side, 
an'  once,  when  I  had  a  sharp  fit  of  it,  she  put 
down  her  work,  an'  looked  at  me  till  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  an'  she  says,  Trankie,  Frankie, 
whatever  will  become  of  us  when  you  be  gone?' 


TRUST.  101 

She  was  making  a  warm  little  petticoat  for  the 
little  rnaid;  so,  after  a  minute  or  two,  I  took  hold 
of  it,  an'  says,  'What  are  'ee  making,  my  dear?' 
She  held  it  up  without  a  word;  her  heart  was 
too  full  to  speak.  Tor  the  little  maid?'  I  says. 
'An'  a  nice,  warm  thing,  too.  How  comfortable 
it  will  keep  her!  Does  she  know  about  it  yet?' 

"  'Know  about  it?  Why,  of  course  not,'  said 
the  wife,  wondering.  'What  should  she  know 
about  it  for?' 

"I  waited  another  minute,  an'  then  I  said: 
'What  a  wonderful  mother  you  must  be,  wifie, 
to  think  about  the  little  maid  like  that!' 

"  'Wonderful,  Frankie?  Why,  it  would  be 
more  like  wonderful  if  I  forgot  that  the  cold 
weather  was  a-coming,  and  that  the  little  maid 
would  be  a-wanting  something  warm.' 

"So,  then,  you  see,  I  had  got  her,  my  friends, 
and  Frankie  smiled.  'O  wife,  says  I,  'do  you 
think  that  you  be  going  to  take  care  o'  the  little 
maid  like  that  an'  your  Father  in  heaven  be 
a-going  to  forget  you  altogether?  Come  now 
(bless  him!),  isn't  he  as  much  to  be  trusted  as 
you  are!  An'  do  you  think  that  he  'd  see  the 
winter  coming  up  sharp  and  cold,  an'  not  have 
something  waiting  for  you,  an'  just  what  you 


102  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

want,  too?  An'  I  know,  dear  wine,  that  you 
would  n't  like  to  hear  the  little  maid  go  a-fret- 
ting,  and  saying:  "There  the  cold  winter  be 
a-coming,  an'  whatever  shall  I  do  if  my  mother 
should  forget  me?"  Why,  you  'd  be  hurt  an' 
grieved  that  she  should  doubt  you  like  that. 
She  knows  that  you  care  for  her,  an'  what  more 
does  she  need  to  know?  That 's  enough  to  keep 
her  from  fretting  about  anything.  "Your  heav- 
enly Father  know.eth  that  you  have  need  of  all 
these  things."  That  be  put  down  in  his  book 
for  you,  wine,  and  on  purpose  for  you;  an'  you 
grieve  an'  hurt  him  when  you  go  to  fretting 
about  the  future,  an'  doubting  his  love.' ' 

Dr.  Trent  closed  the  book,  and  looked  into 
his  listener's  thoughtful  eyes. 

"There,  Bethany,"  he  said,  "is  the  lesson 
I  have  learned.  Nothing  is  withheld  that  we 
really  need.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that 
I  was  tried  beyond  my  power  of  endurance,  but 
when  His  hand  has  fallen  the  heaviest,  His  in- 
finite fatherliness  has  seemed  most  near;  and 
often,  when  I  least  expected  it,  some  great  bless- 
ing has  surprised  me.  I  have  learned,  after  a 
long  time,  that  when  we  put  ourselves  unre- 


TRUST.  103 

servedly  in  His  hands,  lie  is  far  kinder  to  us 
than  we  would  be  to  ourselves. 

1  Always  hath  the  daylight  broken, 
Always  hath  he  comfort  spoken, 
Better  hath  he  been  for  years 
Thau  my  fears.' 

I  can  say  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  Beth- 
any, Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  him." 

The  tears  had  gathered  in  Bethany's  eyes 
as  she  listened.  Xow  she  hastily  brushed  them 
aside.  The  face  that  she  turned  toward  her  old 
friend  reminded  him  of  a  snowdrop  that  had 
caught  a  gleam  of  sunshine  in  the  midst  of  an 
April  shower. 

"You  have  brushed  away  my  last  doubt  and 
foreboding,  Uncle  Doctor!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Really,  I  have  been  entertaining  an  angel  un- 
awares." 

The  old  clock  in  the  hall  sounded  the  half- 
hour  chime,  and  he  rose  to  go. 

"You  have  beguiled  me  into  staying  much 
longer  than  I  intended,"  he  answered.  "What 
will  my  poor  patients  in  the  country  think  of 
such  a  long  delay?" 

"Tell  them  you  have  been  opening  blind 


104  IN  L/KAGUE  WITH  ISRAEI*. 

eyes,"  she  said,  gravely.  "Indeed,  Uncle  Doc- 
tor, the  knowledge  that,  despite  all  you  have 
suffered,  you  can  still  trust  so  implicitly, 
strengthens  my  faith  more  than  you  can  im- 
agine." 

At  the  hall  door  he  turned  and  took  both  her 
hands  in  his: 

"There  is  another  thing  to  remember,"  he 
said.  "You  are  only  called  on  to  live  one  day  at 
a  time.  One  can  endure  almost  any  ache  until 
sundown,  or  bear  up  under  almost  any  load  if 
the  goal  is  in  sight.  Travel  only  to  the  mile- 
post  you  can  see,  my  little  maid.  Do  n't  worry 
about  the  ones  that  mark  the  to-morrows." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TWO  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  LANE. 

"  Sunshine  and  hope  are  comrades." 

HE  early  morning  light  streaming 
into  Bethany's  room,  aroused  her  to 
a  vague  consciousness  of  having  been 
in  a  storm  the  night  before.  Then 
she  remembered  the  garden  roses  beaten  to  earth 
by  the  hail,  and  the  flood  of  doubt  and  perplex- 
ity that  had  swept  through  her  heart  with  such 
overwhelming  force.  The  same  old  problems 
confronted  her;  but  they  did  not  assume  such 
gigantic  proportions  in  the  light  of  this  new 
day,  with  its  infinite  possibilities. 

All  the  time  she  was  dressing  she  heard 
Jack  singing  lustily  in  the  next  room.  He  was 
impatient  to  try  the  new  brace,  and  paused  be- 
tween solos  to  exhort  her  to  greater  haste.  She 
knelt  just  an  instant  by  the  low  window-seat. 
The  prayer  she  made  was  one  of  the  shortest 
she  had  ever  uttered,  and  one  of  the  most  heart- 

105 


106  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

felt:  "Give  me  this  day  my  daily  bread."  That 
was  all;  yet  it  included  everything — strength, 
courage,  temporal  help,  disappointments  or  bless- 
ings— anything  the  dear  Father  saw  she  needed 
in  her  spiritual  growth.  When  she  arose  from 
her  knees,  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  perfect  se- 
curity and  peace.  Xo  matter  what  the  day  might 
bring  forth,  she  would  take  it  trustingly,  and  be 
thankful. 

About  an  hour  after  breakfast  she  wheeled 
Jack  to  a  front  window.  It  was  growing  very 
warm  again. 

"It  does  n't  hurt  me  at  all  to  sit  up  with  this 
brace  on,"  he  said.  "If  you  like,  I  '11  help  you 
practice,  while  I  watch  people  go  by  on  the 
street."  He  had  often  helped  her  gain  steno- 
graphic speed  by  dictating  rapid  sentences.  He 
read  too  slowly  to  be  of  any  service  that  way, 
but  he  knew  yards  of  nursery  rhymes  that  he 
could  repeat  with  amazing  rapidity. 

"I  know  there  is  n't  a  lawyer  living  that  can 
make  a  speech  as  fast  as  I  can  say  the  piece 
about  'Who  killed  Cock  Robin,'  "  he  remarked 
when  he  first  proposed  such  dictation;  "and  I 
can  say  the  'Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled 
peppers'  verse  fast  enough  to  make  you  dizzy." 


Two  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  LANE.  107 

Bethany's  pencil  was  flying  as  rapidly  as 
the  boy's  tongue,  when  they  heard  a  cheery 
voice  in  the  hall. 

"It's  Cousin  Ray!"  cried  Jack.  "I  have 
felt  all  morning  that  something  nice  was  going 
to  happen,  and  now  it  has."  Then  he  called 
out  in  a  tragic  tone,  "  'By  the  pricking  of  my 
thumbs,  something  wicked  this  way  comes.' ' 

"You  saucy  boy!"  laughed  Mrs.  Marion,  as 
she  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "I  think  he  is  de- 
cidedly better,  Bethany;  you  need  not  worry 
about  him  any  longer." 

She  stooped  to  kiss  his  forehead,  and  drop  a 
great  yellow  pear  in  his  lap. 

"No;  I  have  n't  time  to  stay,"  she  said,  when 
Bethany  insisted  on  taking  her  hat.  "I  am  to 
entertain  the  Missionary  Society  this  afternoon, 
and  Dr.  Bascom  has  given  me  an  unusually 
long  list  of  the  'sick  and  in  prison'  kind  to  look 
after  this  month.  It  gives  me  an  'all  out  of 
breath'  sensation  every  time  I  think  of  all  that 
ought  to  be  attended  to." 

She  dropped  into  a  chair  near  a  window, 
and  picked  up  a  fan. 

"You  never  could  guess  my  errand,"  she 
began,  hesitatingly. 


108  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  know  it  is  something  nice,"  said  Jack, 
"from  the  way  your  eyes  shine." 

"I  think  it  is  fine,"  she  answered;  "but  I 
do  n't  know  how  it  will  impress  Bethany." 

She  plunged  into  the  subject  abruptly. 

"The  Courtney  sisters  want  to  come  here 
to  live." 

"The  Courtney  sisters!"  echoed  Bethany, 
blankly.  "To  live!  In  our  house?  O  Cousin 
Ray!  I  have  realized  for  some  time  that  we 
might  have  to  give  up  the  dear  old  place;  but  I 
did  hope  that  it  need  not  be  to  strangers." 

"Why,  they  are  not  strangers,  Bethany. 
They  went  to  school  with  your  mother  for  years 
and  years.  You  have  heard  of  Harry  and 
Carrie  Morse,  I  am  sure." 

"O  yes,"  answered  Bethany,  quickly. 
"They  were  the  twins  who  used  to  do  such  out- 
landish things  at  Forest  Seminary.  I  remem- 
ber, mamma  used  to  speak  of  them  very  often. 
But  I  thought  you  said  it  was  the  Courtney 
sisters  who  wanted  the  house." 

"I  did.  They  married  brothers,  Joe  and 
Ralph  Courtney,  who  were  both  killed  in  the 
late  war.  They  have  been  widows  for  over 


Two  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  LANE.  109 

thirty  years,  you  see.  They  are  just  the 
dearest  old  souls!  They  have  been  away  so 
many,  many  years,  of  course  you  can't  remem- 
ber them.  I  did  not  know  they  were  in  the  city 
until  last  night.  But  just  as  soon  as  I  heard 
that  they  had  come  to  stay,  and  wanted  to  go 
to  housekeeping,  I  thought  of  you  immediately. 
I  could  n't  wait  for  the  storm  to  stop.  I  went 
over  to  see  them  in  all  that  rain." 

"Well,"  prompted  Bethany,  breathlessly, 
as  Mrs.  Marion  paused. 

She  gave  a  quick  glance  around  the  room. 
She  felt  sick  and  faint,  now  that  the  prospect 
of  leaving  stared  her  in  the  face.  Yet  she 
felt  that,  since  it  had  been  unsolicited, 
there  must  be  something  providential  in  the 
sending  of  such  an  opportunity. 

"O,  they  will  be  only  too  glad  to  come," 
resumed  Mrs.  Marion,  "if  you  are  willing.  They 
remembered  the  arrangement  of  the  house  per- 
fectly, and  we  planned  it  all  out  beautifully. 
Since  Jack's  accident  you  sleep  down-stairs  any- 
how. You  could  keep  the  library  and  the  two 
smaller  rooms  back  of  it,  and  may  be  a  couple 
of  rooms  up-stairs.  They  would  take  the  rest 


110  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

of  the  house,  and  board  you  and  Jack  for  the 
rent.  Your  bread  and  butter  would  be  assured 
in  that  way.  They  are  model  housekeepers, 
and  such  a  comfortable  sort  of  bodies  to  have 
around,  that  I  could  n't  possibly  think  of  a  nicer 
arrangement.  Then  you  could  devote  your  time 
and  strength  to  something  more  profitable  than 
taking  care  of  this  big  house." 

"O,  Cousin  Ray!"  was  all  the  happy  girl 
could  gasp.  Her  voice  faltered  from  sheer  glad- 
ness. "You  can't  imagine  what  a  load  you  have 
lifted  from  me.  I  love  every  inch  of  this  place, 
every  stone  in  its  old  gray  walls.  I  could  n't 
bear  to  think  of  giving  it  up.  And,  just  to 
think!  last  night,  at  the  very  time  I  was  most 
despondent,  the  problem  was  being  solved.  I 
can  never  thank  you  enough." 

"The  idea!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Marion,  as  she 
rose  to  go.  "No  thanks  are  due  me,  child.  And 
Miss  Caroline  and  Miss  Harriet,  as  everybody 
still  calls  them,  are  just  as  anxious  for  such  an 
arrangement  as  you  can  possibly  be.  They  '11 
be  over  to  see  you  to-morrow,  for  they  are  quite 
anxious  to  get  settled.  They  have  roamed  about 
the  world  so  long  they  begin  to  feel  that  'there  's 
no  place  like  home.'  Jack,  they  've  been  in 


Two  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  LANE.  Ill 

China  and  Africa  and  the  South  Sea  Islands. 
Think  of  the  charming  tales  in  store  for  you!" 

"Goodness,  Bethany!"  exclaimed  Jack,  when 
she  came  back  into  the  room  after  walking  to 
the  gate  with  Mrs.  Marion.  ''Your  face  shines 
as  if  there  was  a  light  inside  of  you." 

"O,  there  is,  Jackie  boy,"  she  answered, 
giving  him  an  ecstatic  hug.  "I  am  so  very 
happy!  It  seems  too  good  to  be  true." 

"Cousin  Ray  is  awful  good  to  us,"  remarked 
the  boy,  thoughtfully.  "Seems  to  me  she  is 
always  busy  doing  something  for  somebody. 
She  never  has  a  minute  for  herself.  I  remem- 
ber, when  I  used  to  go  up  there,  people  kept 
coming  all  day  long,  and  every  one  of  them 
wanted  something.  Why  do  you  suppose  they 
all  went  to  her?  Did  she  tell  them  they  might?" 

"Jack,  do  you  remember  the  plant  you  had 
in  your  window  last  winter?"  she  replied.  "No 
matter  how  many  times  I  turned  the  jar  that 
held  it,  the  flower  always  turned  around  again 
towards  the  sun.  People  are  the  same  way,  dear. 
They  unconsciously  spread  out  their  leaves 
towards  those  who  have  help  and  comfort  to 
give.  They  feel  they  are  welcome,  with- 
out asking." 


112  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"She  makes  me  think  of  that  verse  in 
'Mother  Goose,'  "  said  Jack.  "  'Sugar  and  spice 
and  everything  nice.'  Does  n't  she  you,  sister?" 

"No,"  said  Bethany,  with  an  amused  smile. 
"Lowell  has  described  her: 

'  So  circled  lives  she  with  love's  holy  light, 

That  from  the  shade  of  self  she  walketh  free.' " 

"  I  do  n't  'zactly  understand,"  said  Jack, 
with  a  puzzled  expression. 

She  explained  it,  and  he  repeated  it  over  and 
over,  until  he  had  it  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind. 

Then  they  went  back  to  the  dictation  exer- 
cises. It  was  almost  dark  when  they  had  an- 
other caller.  Mr.  Marion  stopped  at  the  door 
on  his  way  home  to  dinner. 

"I  have  good  news  for  you,  Bethany,"  he 
said,  with  his  face  aglow  with  eager  sympathy. 
"Did  Ray  tell  you?" 

"About  the  house?"  she  said.  "Yes.  I've 
been  on  a  mountain-top  all  day  because  of  it." 

"O,  I  don't  mean  that!"  he  exclaimed, 
hastily.  "It 's  better  than  that.  I  mean  about 
Porter  &  Edmunds." 

"I  do  n't  see  how  anything  could  be  better 
than  the  news  she  brought,"  said  Bethany. 

"Well,  it  is.     Mr.  Porter  asked  me  to  see 


Two  TURNINGS  IN  BETHANY'S  L,ANE.  113 

their  new  law-office  to-day.  They  have  just 
moved  into  the  Clifton  Block.  They  have  an 
elegant  place.  As  I  looked  around,  making 
mental  notes  of  all  the  fine  furnishings,  I 
thought  of  you,  and  wished  you  had  such  a  po- 
sition. I  asked  him  if  he  needed  a  stenographer. 
It  was  a  random  shot,  for  I  had  no  idea  they 
did.  The  young  man  they  have  has  been  there 
so  long,  I  considered  him  a  fixture.  To  my 
surprise  he  told  me  the  fellow  is  going  into  bus- 
iness for  himself,  and  the  place  will  be  open 
next  week.  I  told  him  I  could  fill  it  for  him 
to  his  supreme  satisfaction.  He  promised  to 
give  you  the  refusal  of  it  until  to-morrow  noon. 
I  leave  to-night  on  a  business-trip,  or  I  would 
take  you  over  and  introduce  you." 

"O,  thank  you,  Cousin  Frank!"  she  ex- 
claime.d.  "I  know  Mr.  Edmunds  very  well.  He 
was  a  warm  friend  of  papa's." 

Then  she  added,  impulsively: 

"Yesterday  I  thought  I  had  come  to  such  a 
dark  place  that  I  could  n't  see  my  hand  before 
my  face.  I  was  just  so  blue  and  discouraged  I 
was  ready  to  give  up,  and  now  the  way  has 
grown  so  plain  and  easy,  all  at  once,  I  feel  that 
I  must  be  living  in  a  dream." 
8 


114  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Bless  your  brave  little  soul!"  he  exclaimed, 
holding  out  his  hand.  "Why  did  n't  yo.u  conic 
to  me  with  your  troubles?  Remember  I  atn  al- 
ways glad  to  smooth  the  way  for  you,  just  as 
much  as  lies  in  my  power." 

When  he  had  gone,  Bethany  crept  away  into 
the  quiet  twilight  of  the  library,  and,  kneeling  be- 
fore the  big  arm-chair,  laid  her  head  in  its  cush- 
ioned seat. 

"O  Father,"  she  whispered,  "I  am  so 
ashamed  of  myself  to  think  I  ever  doubted  thee 
for  one  single  moment.'  Forgive  me,  please, 
and  help  me  through  every  hour  of  every  day 
to  trust  unfalteringly  in  thy  great  love  and 
goodness." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JUDGE    HAU,AM'S    DAUGHTER, 
STENOGRAPHER. 

HERE  was  so  much  to  be  done  next 
morning,  setting  the  rooms  all  in  or- 
der for  the  critical  inspection  of  Miss 
Caroline  and  Miss  Harriet,  that  Beth- 
any had  little  time  to  think  of  the  dreaded  in- 
terview with  Porter  &  Edmunds. 

She  wheeled  Jack  out  into  the  shady,  vine- 
covered  piazza,  and  brought  him  a  pile  of  things 
for  him  to  amuse  himself  with  in  her  absence. 
".Ring  your  bell  for  Mena  if  you  need  any- 
thing else,"  she  said.  "I  will  be  back  before  the 
sun  gets  around  to  this  side  of  the  Louse,  maybe 
in  less  than  an  hour." 

He  caught  at  her  dress  with  a  detaining 

grasp,  and  a  troubled  look  came  over  his  face. 

"O  sister!  I  just  thought  of  it.     If  you  do 

get  that  place,  will  I  have  to  stay  here  all  day 

by  myself?" 

"O   no,"  she  answered.     "Mena  can  wheel 

115 


116  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

you  around  the  garden,  and  wait  on  you;  and 
I  will  think  of  all  sorts  of  things  to  keep  you 
busy.  Then  the  old  ladies  will  be  here,  and  I 
am  sure  they  will  be  kind  to  you.  I  '11  be  home 
at  noon,  and  we  '11  have  lovely  long  evenings  to- 
gether." 

"But  if  those  people  come,  Mena  will  have 
so  much  more  to  do,  she  '11  never  have  any  time 
to  wheel  me.  Could  n't  you*  take  me  with  you?" 
he  asked,  wistfully.  "I  would  n't  be  a  bit  of 
bother.  I  'd  take  my  books  and  study,  or  look 
out  of  the  window  all  the  time,  and  keep  just 
as  quiet!  Please  ask  'em  if  I  can't  come  too, 
sister!" 

It  was  hard  to  resist  the  pleading  tone. 

"Maybe  they  '11  not  want  me,"  answered 
Bethany.  "I  '11  have  to  settle  that  matter  be- 
fore making  any  promises.  But  never  mind, 
dear,  we  '11  arrange  it  in  some  way." 

It  was  a  warm  July  morning.  As  Bethany 
Avalked  slowly  toward  the  business  portion  of 
the  town,  several  groups  of  girls  passed  her, 
evidently  on  their  way  to  work,  from  the  few 
words  she  overheard  in  passing.  Most  of  them 
looked  tired  and  languid,  as  if  the  daily  routine 
of  such  a  treadmill  existence  was  slowly  drain- 


JUDGE  HALLAM'S  DAUGHTER.    117 

ing  their  vitality.  Two  or  three  had  a  pert, 
bold  air,  that  their  contact  with  business  life 
had  given  them.  One  was  chewing  gum  and  re- 
peating in  a  loud  voice  some  conversation  she 
had  had  with  her  "boss." 

Bethany's  heart  sank  as  she  suddenly  real- 
ized that  she  was  about  to  join  the  great  work- 
ing-class of  which  this  ill-bred  girl  was  a  mem- 
ber. Not  that  she  had  any  of  the  false  pride 
that  pushes  a  woman  who  is  an  independent 
wage-winner  to  a  lower  social  scale  than  one 
whom  circumstances  have  happily  hedged  about 
with  home  walls;  but  she  had  recalled  at  that 
moment  some  of  her  acquaintances  who  would 
do  just  such  a  thing.  In  their  short-sighted, 
self-assumed  superiority,  they  could  make  no 
discrimination  between  the  girl  at  the  cigar- 
stand,  who  flirted  with  her  customer,  and  the 
girl  in  the  school-room,  who  taught  her  pupils 
more  from  her  inherent  refinement  and  gentle- 
ness than  from  their  text-books. 

She  had  remembered  that  Belle  Romney 
had  said  to  her  one  day,  as  they  drove  past  a 
great  factory  where  the  girls  were  swarming 
out  at  noon:  "Do  you  know,  Bethany  dear,  I 
would  rather  lie  down  and  die  than  have  to 


118  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

work  in  such  a  place.  You  can't  imagine  what 
a  horror  I  have  of  being  obliged  to  work  for  a 
living,  no  matter  in  what  way.  I  would  feel 
utterly  disgraced  to  come  down  to  such  a  thing; 
but  I  suppose  these  poor  creatures  are  so  accus- 
tomed to  it  they  never  mind  it." 

Bethany's  eyes  blazed.  She  knew  Belle 
Romney's  position  was  due  entirely  to  the  tol- 
erance of  a  distant  relative.  She  longed  to  an- 
swer vehemently:  "Well,  I  would  starve  before 
I  would  deliberately  sit  down  to  be  a  willing  de- 
pendent on  the  charity  of  my  friends.  It 's 
only  a  species  of  genteel  pauperism,  and  none 
the  less  despicable  because  of  the  purple  and 
fine  linen  it  flaunts  in." 

She  had  not  made  the  speech,  however. 
Belle  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  and  folded 
her  daintily-gloved  hands,  as  they  passed  the  fac- 
tory-girls, with  an  air  of  complacency  that 
amused  Bethany  then.  It  nettled  her  now  to 
remember  it. 

She  turned  into  the  street  where  the  Clif- 
ton Block  stood,  an  imposing  building,  whose 
first  two  floors  were  occupied  by  lawyers'  offices. 
Porter  &  Edmunds  were  on  the  second  floor. 
The  elevator-boy  showed  her  the  room.  The 


JUDGE  HALLAM'S  DAUGHTER.         119 

door  stood  open,  exposing  an  inviting  interior, 
for  the  walls  were  lined  with  books,  and  the 
rugs  and  massive  furniture  bespoke  taste  as  well 
as  wealth. 

An  elderly  gentleman,  with  his  heels  on  the 
window-sill  and 'his  back  to  the  door,  was  vig- 
orously smoking.  He  was  waiting  for  a  back- 
woods client,  who  had  an  early  engagement. 
His  feet  came  to  the  floor  with  sudden  force, 
and  his  cigar  was  tossed  hastily  out  of  the  win- 
dow when  he  heard  Bethany's  voice  saying, 
timidly, 

"May  I  come  in,  Mr.  Edmunds?" 

He  came  forward  with  old-school  gallantry. 
It  was  not  often  his  office  was  brightened  by 
such  a  visitor. 

"Why,  it  is  Miss  Hallam!"  he  exclaimed, 
in  surprise,  secretly  wondering  what  had  brought 
her  to  his  office. 

.  He  had  met  her  often  in  her  father's  house, 
and  had  seen  her  the  center  of  many  an  admir- 
ing group  at  parties  and  receptions.  She  had 
always  impressed  him  as  having  the  air  of  one 
who  had  been  surrounded  by  only  the  most  re- 
fined influences  of  life.  He  thought  her  un- 
usually charming  this  morning,  all  in  black, 


120  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

with  such  a  timid,  almost  childish  expression 
in  her  big,  gray  eyes. 

"Take  this  seat  by  the  window,  Miss  Hal- 
lam,"  he  said,  cordially.  "I  hope  this  cigar 
smoke  does  not  annoy  you.  I  had  no  idea  I 
should  have  the  honor  of  entertaining  a  lady, 
or  I  should  not  have  indulged." 

"Did  n't  Mr.  Marion  tell  you  I  was  coming 
this  morning?"  asked  Bethany,  in  some  em- 
barrassment. 

"No,  not  a  word.  I  believe  he  said  some- 
thing to  Mr.  Porter  about  a  typewriter-girl  that 
wants  a  place,  but  I  am  sure  he  never  men- 
tioned that  you  intended  doing  us  the  honor 
of  calling." 

Bethany  smiled  faintly. 

"I  am  the  typewriter-girl  that  wants  the 
place,"  she  answered. 

"You!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Edmunds,  standing 
up  in  his  surprise,  and  beginning  to  stutter  as 
he  always  did  when  much  excited.  "You!  w'y- 
w'y-w'y,  you  do  n't  say  so!"  he  finally  managed 
to  blurt  out 

"What  is  it  that  is  so  astonishing?"  asked 
Bethany,  beginning  to  be  amused.  "Do  you 
think  it  is  presumptuous  in  me  to  aspire  to  such 


JUDGE  HALLAM'S  DAUGHTER.         121 

a  position?  I  assure  you  I  have  a  very  fair 
speed." 

"No,"  answered  Mr.  Edmunds,  "it 's  not 
that;  but  I  never  any  more  thought  of  your 
going  out  in  the  world  to  make  a  living  than 
a-a-a  pet  canary,"*  he  added,  in  confusion. 

He  seated  himself  again,  and  began  tapping 
on  the  table  with  a  paper-knife. 

"Can't  you  paint,  or  give  music  lessons,  or 
teach  French?"  he  asked,  half  impatiently.  "A 
girl  brought  up  as  you  have  been  has  no  busi- 
ness jostling  up  against  the  world,  especially 
the  part  of  a  world  one  sees  in  the  court-room." 

Bethany  looked  at  him  gravely. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  can  do  all  those 
things  after  a  fashion,  but  none  of  them  well 
enough  to  measure  up  to  my  standard  of  pro- 
ficiency, which  is  a  high  one.  I  do  understand 
stenography,  and  I  am  confident  I  can  do  thor- 
ough, first-class  work.  I  think,  too,  Mr.  Ed- 
munds, that  it  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  the  girl 
who  has  had  the  most  sheltered  home-life  is 
the  one  least  fitted  to  go  into  such  places.  Papa 
used  to  say  we  are  like  the  planets;  we  carry 
our  own  atmosphere  with  us.  I  am  sure  one 
may  carry  the  same  personality  into  a  reporter's 


122  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

stand  that  she  would  into  a  drawing-room.  We 
need  not  necessarily  change  with  our  surround- 
ings." 

As  she  spoke,  a  slight  tinge  of  pink  flushed 
her  cheeks,  and  she  unconsciously  raised  her 
chin  a  trifle  haughtily.  Mr.  Edmunds  looked 
at  her  admiringly,  and  then  made  a  gallant  bow. 

"I  am  sure,  Miss  Hallam  would  grace  any 
position  she  might  choose  to  fill,"  he  said 
courteously. 

"Then  you  will  let  me  try,"  she  asked, 
eagerly.  She  slipped  off  her  glove,  and  took 
pencil  and  paper  from  the  table.  "If  you  will 
only  test  my  speed,  maybe  you  can  make  a  de- 
cision sooner." 

He  dictated  several  pages,  which  she  wrote 
to  his  entire  satisfaction. 

"You  are  not  half  as  rapid  as  Jack,"  she  said, 
laughingly;  and  then  she  told  him  of  the  prac- 
tice she  had  had  writing  nursery  rhymes. 

He  seemed  so  interested  that  she  went  on 
to  tell  him  more  about  the  child,  and  his  great 
desire  to  be  in  the  office  with  her. 

"I  told  him  I  would  ask  you,"  she  said, 
finally;  "but  that  it  was  a  very  unusual  thing 


JUDGE  HAL,I<AM'S  DAUGHTER.         123 

to  do,  and  that  I  doubted  very  much  if  any 
business  firm  would  allow  it." 

He  saw  how  hard  it  had  been  for  her  to 
prefer  such  a  request,  and  smiled  reassuringly. 

"It  would  be  a  very  small  thing  for  me  to 
do  for  Richard  Hallam's  boy,"  he  said.  "Tell 
the  little  fellow  to  come,  and  welcome.  He 
need  not  be  in  any  one's  way.  We  have  three 
rooms  in  this  suite,  and  you  will  occupy  the 
one  at  the  far  end." 

It  was  hard  for  Bethany  to  keep  back  the 
tears. 

"I  can  never  thank  you  enough,  Mr.  Ed- 
munds," she  said.  "The  legacy  papa  thought 
he  had  secured  to  us  was  swept  away,  but  he 
has  left  us  one  thing  that  more  than  compen- 
sates— the  heritage  of  his  friendships.  I  have 
been  finding  out  lately  what  a  great  thing  it 
is  to  be  rich  in  friends." 

Bethany  went  home  jubilant.  "Now  if  my 
twin  tenants  turn  out  to  be  half  as  nice,"  she 
thought,  "this  will  be  a  very  satisfactory  day." 

She  tried  to  picture  them,  as  she  walked 
rapidly  on,  wondering  whether  they  would  be 
prim  and  dignified,  or  nervous  and  fussy.  Mrs. 


124  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Marion  had  said  they  were  fine  housekeepers. 
That  might  mean  they  were  exacting  and  hard 
to  please. 

"What 's  the  use  of  borrowing  trouble?" 
she  concluded,  finally.  "I  '11  take  Uncle  Doc- 
tor's advice,  and  not  try  to  count  to-morrow's 
milestones." 

She  found  them  sitting  on  the  side  piazza, 
being  abundantly  entertained  by  Jack. 

"Sister!"  he  called,  excitedly,  as  she  came 
up  the  steps  to  meet  them;  "this  one  is  Aunt 
Harry — that 's  what  she  told  me  to  call  her — 
and  the  other  one  is  Aunt  Carrie;  and  they've 
both  been  around  the  world  together,  and  both 
ridden  on  elephants." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  the  uncere- 
monious introduction. 

Miss  Caroline  took  Bethany's  hands  in  her 
own  little  plump  ones,  and  stood  on  tiptoe  to 
give  her  a  hearty  kiss.  Miss  Harriet  did  the 
same,  holding  her  a  moment  longer  to  look 
at  her  with  fond  scrutiny. 

"Such  a  striking  resemblance  to  your  dear 
mother,"  she  said.  "Sister  and  I  hoped  you 
would  look  like  her." 

"They  are  homely  little  bodies,  and  dread- 


JUDGE  HALLAM'S  DAUGHTER.         125 

fully  old-fashioned,"  'was  Bethany's  first  im- 
pression, as  she  looked  at  them  in  their  plain 
dresses  of  Quaker  gray.  "But  their  voices  are 
so  musical,  and  they  have  such  good,  motherly 
faces,  I  believe  they  will  prove  to  be  real  rest- 
ful kind  of  people." 

"Sister  and  I  have  been  such  birds  of  pas- 
sage, that  it  will  seem  good  to  settle  down  in 
a  real  home-nest  for  a  while,"  said  Miss  Harriet, 
as  they  were  going  over  the  house  together. 

"When  one  has  lived  in  a  trunk  for  a  decade, 
one  appreciates  big,  roomy  closets  and  wardrobes 
like  these." 

They  went  all  over  the  place,  from  garret 
to  cellar,  and  sat  down  to  rest  beside  an  open 
window,  where  a  climbing  rose  shook  its  fra- 
grance in  with  every  passing  breeze. 

"Mrs.  Marion  thought  you  might  not  be 
ready  for  us  before  next  week,"  sighed  Miss 
Caroline;  "but  these  cool,  airy  rooms  do  tempt 
me  so.  I  wish  we  could  come  this  very  after- 
noon." She  smiled  insinuatingly  at  Bethany. 
"We  have  nothing  to  move  but  our  trunks." 

"Well,  why  not?"  answered  Bethany.  "I 
shall  be  glad  to  surrender  the  reins  any  time 
you  want  to  assume  the  responsibility." 


126  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Then  it 's  settled !'' cried  Miss  Caroline, 
exultingly.  "O,  I  'in  so  glad!"  and,  catching 
Miss  Harriet  around  her  capacious  waist,  she 
whirled  her  around  the  room,  regardless  of  her 
protestations,  until  their  spectacles  slid  down 
their  noses,  and  they  were  out  of  breath. 

Bethany  watched  them  in  speechless  amaze- 
ment. Miss  Caroline  turned  in  time  to  catch 
her  expression  of  alarm. 

"Did  you  think  we  had  lost  our  senses, 
dear?"  she  asked.  "We  do  not  often  forget 
our  dignity  so;  but  we  have  been  so  long  like 
Noah's  dove,  with  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  our 
foot,  that  the  thought  of  having  at  last  found 
an  abiding-place  is  really  overwhelming." 

"I  wish  you  would  n't  always  say  'we,' ' 
remarked  Miss  Harriet,  with  dignity.     "I  am 
very  sure  I  have  outgrown  such  ridiculous  ex- 
hibitions of  enthusiasm,  and  it  is  fully  time  that 
you  had  too." 

"O,  come  now,  Harry,"  responded  Miss 
Caroline,  soothingly.  "You  're  just  as  glad  as 
I  am,  and  there  's  no  use  in  trying  to  hide  our 
real  selves  from  people  we  are  going  to  live 
with." 


JUDGE  HALLAM'S  DAUGHTER.         127 

Then  she  turned  to  Bethany  with  an  apolo- 
getic air. 

"Sister  thinks  because  we  have  arrived  at 
a  certain  date  on  our  calendar,  we  must  con- 
form to  that  date.  But,  try  as  hard  as  I  can, 
I  fail  to  feel  any  older  sometimes  than  I  used 
to  at  Forest  Seminary,  when  we  made  midnight 
raids  on  the  pantry,  and  had  all  sorts  of  larks. 
I  suppose  it  does  look  ridiculous,  and  I  'm  sorry; 
but  I  can't  grow  old  gracefully,  so  long  as  I 
am  just  as  ready  to  effervesce  as  I  ever  was." 

Bethany  was  amused  at  the  half-reproach- 
ful, half-indulgent  look  that  Miss  Harriet  be- 
stowed on  her  sister. 

"They  '11  be  a  constant  source  of  entertain- 
ment," she  thought.  "I  wonder  how  we  ever 
happened  to  drift  together." 

Something  of  the  last  thought  she  expressed 
in  a  remark  to  the  sisters  as  they  went  down 
stairs  together. 

"Indeed,  we  did  not  drift!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Caroline,  decidedly.  "You  needed  us,  and  we 
needed  you,  and  the  great  Weaver  crossed  our 
life-threads  for  some  purpose  of  his  own." 

By  nightfall    the    sisters    had    taken  their 


128  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

places  in  the  old  house,  as  quietly  and  naturally 
as  twin  turtle-doves  tuck  their  heads  under  their 
wings  in  the  shelter  of  a  nest.  Their  presence 
in  the  house  gave  Bethany  such  a  care-free, 
restful  feeling,  and  a  sense  of  security  that  she 
had  not  had  since  she  had  been  left  at  the  head 
of  affairs. 

After  Jack  had  gone  to  bed,  she  drew  a 
rocking-chair  out  into  the  wide  hall,  and  sat 
down  to  enjoy  the  cool  breeze  that  swept 
through  it. 

Miss  Caroline  was  down  in  the  kitchen,  in- 
terviewing Mena  about  breakfast.  How  de- 
lightful it  was  to  be  freed  from  all  responsi- 
bility of  the  meals  and  the  marketing!  After 
the  next  week  she  would  not  have  even  the 
rooms  to  attend  to,  for  Miss  Caroline  had  en- 
gaged a  stout  maid  to  do  the  housework,  that 
Bethany's  inexperienced  hands  had  found  so 
irksome. 

Up-stairs,  Miss  Harriet  was  stepping  briskly 
around,  unpacking  one  of  the  trunks.  Bethany 
could  hear  her  singing  to  herself  in  a  thin,  sweet 
voice,  full  of  old-fashioned  quavers  and  turns. 
Some  of  the  notes  were  muffled  as  she  disap- 


JUDGE  HAI,I,AM'S  DAUGHTER.         129 

peared  from  time  to  time  in  the  big  closet,  and 
some  came  with  jerky  force  as  she  tugged  at  a 
refractory  bureau  drawer. 

"  Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take, 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head." 
9 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  KINDLING  INTEREST. 

RANK  Marion,  on  his  way  to  the  store 
one  morning,  stopped  at  the  office 
where  Bethany  had  been  installed 
just  a  week. 
"You  will  find  me  dropping  in  here  quite 
often,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Edmunds,  whom  he  met 
coining  out  of  the  door.  "Since  that  little  cousin 
of  mine  is  never  to  be  found  at  home  in  the  day- 
time any  more,  I  shall  have  to  call  on  him  here. 
He  is  my  right-hand  man  in  Junior  League 
work." 

"Who?  Jack?"  inquired  Mr.  Edmunds. 
"He  's  the  most  original  little  piece  I  ever  saw. 
Sorry  I  'm  called  out  just  now,  Frank.  You  're 
always  welcome,  you  know." 

Bethany  was  seated  at  her  typewriter,  so 
intent  on  her  manuscript  that  she  did  not  notice 
Mr.  Marion's  entrance.  Jack,  in  his  chair  by 
the  window,  was  working  vigorously  with  slate 
and  pencil  at  an  arithmetic  lesson.  As  Bethany 

130 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  131 

paused  to  take  the  finished  page  from  the  ma- 
chine, Jack  looked  up  and  saw  Mr.  Marion's 
tall  form  in  the  doorway. 

"O,  come  in!"  he  cried,  joyfully.  "I  want 
you  to  see  how  nice  everything  is  here.  We 
have  the  best  times." 

Mr.  Marion  looked  across  at  Bethany,  and 
smiled  at  the  child's  delight. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said,  drawing  a  chair 
up  to  the  window,  and  entering  into  the  boy's 
pleasure  with  that  ready  sympathy  that  was  the 
secret  of  his  success  with  all  children. 

"Well,  you  see,  Bethany  wheels  me  onto 
the  elevator,  and  up  we  come.  And  it 's  so  nice 
and  cool  up  here.  She  has  n't  been  very  busy 
yet.  While  she  writes  I  get  my  lessons,  or  draw, 
or  work  puzzles.  Then,  when  Mr.  Edmunds 
and  Mr.  Porter  go  off,  and  she  has  n't  anything 
to  do,  I  recite  to  her.  But  the  best  fun  is 
grocery  tales." 

"What 's  'grocery  tales?'  "  asked  Mr.  Ma- 
rion, with  nattering  interest. 

"Do  you  see  that  wholesale  grocery-store 
across  the  street?"  asked  Jack,  "and  all  the 
things  sitting  around  in  front?  There  's  almost 
everything  you  can  think  of,  from  a  broom  to 


132  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

a  banana.  1  choose  the  first  thing  I  happen  to 
look  at,  and  she  tells  me  a  story  about  it.  If  it 's 
a  tea-chest,  that  makes  her  think  of  a  Chinese 
story;  or  if  it's  a  bottle  of  olives,  something  about 
the  knights  and  ladies  of  Spain.  Yesterday  it 
was  a  chicken-coop,  and  she  told  me  about  a 
lovely  visit  she  had  once  on  a  farm.  She  says 
when  we  come  to  that  coil  of  rope,  it  will  re- 
mind her  of  a  storm  she  was  in  on  the  Med- 
iterranean; and  the  coffee  means  a  South  Amer- 
ican story;  and  the  watermelons  a  darkey  story; 
and  the  brooms  something  she  read  once  about 
an  old,  blind  broom-maker.  Then  I  have  lots 
of  fun  watching  people  pass.  So  many  teams 
stop  at  the  watering-trough  over  there.  I  like 
to  wonder  where  everybody  comes  from,  and  im- 
agine what  their  homes  are  like.  It  is  almost  as 
good  as  reading  about  them  in  a  book." 

"You  are  a  very  happy  little  fellow,"  said 
Mr.  Marion,  patting  his  cheek,  approvingly. 
"I  am  glad  you  are  getting  strong  so  fast,  so  that 
you  can  go  out  into  this  big,  discontented  world 
of  ours,  and  teach  other  people  how  to  be  happy. 
I  've  brought  you  some  more  work  to  do.  I  want 
you  to  look  up  all  these  references,  and  copy 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  133 

them  on  separate  slips  of  paper  for  our  next 
meeting.  By  the  way,  Bethany,"  he  said,  as 
he  rose  to  go,  "I  had  a  letter  from  our  Chat- 
tanooga Jew  this  morning.  He  is  as  much  in 
earnest  as  ever.  I  wish  we  could  get  our  League 
interested  in  him  and  his  mission." 

"It  is  a  very  unpopular  movement,  Cousin 
Frank,"  she  answered.  "Think  of  the  prejudices 
to  overcome.  How  little  the  general  member- 
ship of  the  Church  know  or  care  about  the 
Jews!  It  seems  almost  impossible  to  combat 
such  indifference.  Carlyle  says,  'Every  noble 
work  is  at  first  impossible.' ' 

"Ah,  Bethany,"  he  answered,  "and  Paul 
says:  'I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  who 
strengthened!  me.'  I  can't  get  away  from  the 
feeling  that  God  wants  me  to  take  some  forward 
step  in  the  matter.  Every  paper  I  pick  up 
seems  to  call  my  attention  to  it  in  some  way. 
All  the  time  in  my  business  I  am  brought  in 
contact  with  Jews  who  want  to  talk  to  me  about 
my  religion.  They  introduce  the  subject  them- 
selves. Ray  and  I  have  been  reading  Graetz's 
history  lately.  I  declare  it 's  a  puzzle  to  me  how 
any  one  can  read  an  account  of  all  the  race  en- 


134  IN  LRAGUK  WITH  ISRAKL. 

dured  at  the  hands  of  the  Christianity  of  the 
]\Iiddle  Ages,  and  not  be  more  lenient  toward 
them.  Pharaoh's  cruelties  were  not  a  tithe  of 
what  was  dealt  out  to  them  in  the  name  of  the 
gentle  Xazarene.  No  wonder  their  children 
were  taught  to  spit  at  the  mention  of  such  a 
name." 

"O,  is  that  history  as  bad  as  'Fox's  Book  of 
Martyrs?'  "  asked  Jack,  eagerly.  "We  've  got 
that  at  home,  with  the  awfullest  black  and 
yellow  pictures  in  it  of  people  being  burned  to 
death  and  tortured.  I  hope,  if  it  is  as  inter- 
esting, sister  will  read  it  out  loud." 

Bethany  made  such  a  grimace  of  remon- 
strance that  Mr.  Marion  laughed. 

"I  '11  send  the  books  over  to-morrow.  You  '11 
not  care  to  read  all  five  volumes,  Jack;  but  Beth- 
any can  select  the  parts  that  will  interest  you 
most." 

Jack's  tenacious  memory  brought  the  sub- 
ject up  again  that  evening  at  the  table. 

"Aunt  Harry,"  he  asked,  abruptly,  pausing 
in  the  act  of  helping  himself  to  sugar,  "do  you 
like  the  Jews?" 

"Why,  no,  child,"  she  said,  hesitatingly. 
"I  can't  say  that  I  take  any  special  interest  in 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  135 

them,  one  way  or  another.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  've  never  known  any  personally." 

"Would  you  like  to  know  more  about  them?" 
he  asked,  with  childish  persistence.  "  'Cause 
Bethany  ?s  going  to  read  to  me  about  them  when 
Cousin  Frank  sends  the  books  over,  and  you  can 
listen  if  you  like." 

"Anything  that  Bethany  reads  we  shall  be 
glad  to  hear,"  answered  Miss  Harriet.  "At 
first  sister  and  I  thought  we  would  not  intrude 
on  you  in  the  evenings;  but  the  library  does 
look  so  inviting,  and  it  is  so  dull  for  us  to  sit 
with  just  our  knitting- work,  since  we  have 
stopped  reading  by  lamp-light,  that  we  can  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  go  in  whenever  she  be- 
gins to  read  aloud." 

"O,  you  're  home-folks,"  said  Jack. 

Bethany  had  excused  herself  before  this  con- 
versation commenced,  and  was  in  the  library, 
opening  the  mail  Miss  Caroline  had  forgotten  to 
give  her  at  noon.  When  the  others  joined  her, 
she  held  up  a  little  pamphlet  she  had  just 
opened. 

"Look,  Tack!  It  is  from  Mr.  Lessing,  from 
Chattanooga.  Tt  is  an  article  on  'What  shall 
become  of  the  Jew?'  I  suppose  it  is  written  by 


136  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

one  of  them,  at  least  his  name  would  indicate 
it — Leo  N.  Levi.  It  will  be  interesting  to  look 
at  that  question  from  their  standpoint." 

"Will  I  like  it?"  asked  Jack. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  she  answered,  after  a 
rapid  glance  through  its  pages.  "We  '11  have 
some  more  of  the  'Bonnie  Brier-Bush'  to-night, 
and  save  this  until  you  are  asleep." 

Bethany  read  well,  and  excelled  in  Scotch 
dialect.  When  she  laid  down  the  book  after 
the  story  of  "A  Doctor  of  the  Old  School," 
she  saw  a  big  tear  splash  down  on  Miss  Harriet's 
knitting-work,  and  Miss  Caroline  was  furtively 
wiping  her  spectacles. 

"Leave  the  door  open,"  called  Jack,  when 
he  had  been  tucked  away  for  the  night.  "Then 
I  can  listen  if  it 's  nice,  or  go  to  sleep  if  it 's  dull." 

"Do  you  really  care  to  hear  this?"  asked 
Bethany,  picking  up  the  pamphlet. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  with  several  em- 
phatic nods.  "I  '11  own  I  am  very  ignorant  on 
the  subject;  and  after  something  so  highly  en- 
tertaining as  these  sweet  Scotch  tales,  it 's  no 
more  than  right  that  we  should  take  something 
improving." 

"O  sister,"  called  Jack's  voice  from  the  next 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  137 

room,  "you  never  told  them  about  Mr.  Lessing, 
did  you*" 

"No,"  answered  Bethany.  "I  never  told 
them  any  of  my  Chattanooga  experiences. 
Maybe  it  would  be  better  to  begin  with  them, 
and  then  you  can  understand  how  I  happened 
to  become  so  interested  in  the  Hebrew  people. 
The  pamphlet  can  wait  until  another  time." 

She  tossed  it  back  on  the  table,  and  settled 
herself  comfortably  in  a  big  chair. 

"I  '11  begin  at  the  beginning,"  she  said, 
"and  tell  you  how  I  was  persuaded  into  going, 
and  how  strangely  events  linked  into  each 
other." 

"Can't  you  just  see  it  all?"  murmured  Miss 
Caroline,  as  Bethany  drew  a  graphic  picture 
of  the  mountain  outlook,  the  sunrise,  and  the 
crowded  tent.  When  she  came  to  Lessing's 
story,  Miss  Harriet  dropped  her  work  in  her  lap, 
and  Miss  Caroline  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 

"Dear!  dear!  It  sounds  like  a  chapter  out 
of  a  romance!"  exclaimed  Miss  Caroline,  when 
Bethany  had  finished.  "That  part  about  the 
mother's  curse  and  being  buried  in  effigy  makes 
me  think  of  the  novels  that  we  used  to  smuggle 
into  our  rooms  at  school.  I  wish  you  could  go 


138  IN    L,EAGUE    WITH    ISRAEL. 

on  and  give  us  the  next  chapter.  It  is  intensely 
interesting." 

"Ah,  the  next  chapter,"  replied  Bethany, 
sadly.  "I  thought  of  that  at  the  time.  What 
can  it  be  but  the  daily  repetition  of  commonplace 
events?  He  will  simply  go  on  to  the  end  in  a 
routine  of  study  and  work.  He  will  preach  to 
whatever  audiences  he  can  gather  around  him. 
That  is  all  the  world  will  see.  The  other  part 
of  it,  the  burden  of  loneliness  laid  upon  him 
because  of  Jewish  scorn  and  Christian  distrust, 
the  soul-struggles,  the  spiritual  victories,  the 
silent  heroism,  will  be  unwritten  and  unap- 
plauded,  because  unseen." 

"I  do  n't  wonder  you  are  interested,"  said 
Miss  Harriet.  "Would  you  believe  it,  I  do  n't 
know  the  difference  between  an  orthodox  and 
a  reform  Jew?  I  think  I  shall  look  it  up  to- 
morrow in  the  encyclopedia." 

She  picked  up  the  little  pamphlet,  and 
opened  at  random. 

"Here  is  a  marked  paragraph,"  she  said. 
"  'The  Jew  is  everywhere  in  evidence.  He  sells 
vodki  in  Russia;  he  matches  his  cunning  against 
Moslem  and  Greek  in  Turkey;  he  fights  for  ex- 
istence and  endures  martyrdom  in  the  Balkan 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  139 

provinces;  he  crowds  the  professions,  the  arts, 
the  market-place,  the  bourse,  and  the  army,  in 
France,  England,  Austria,  and  Germany.  He 
has  invaded  every  calling  in  America,  and  every- 
where he  is  seen ;  and,  what  is  more  to  the  point, 
he  is  felt.  He  runs  through  the  entire  length  of 
history,  as  a  thin  but  well-defined  line,  touched 
by  the  high  lights  of  great  events  at  almost  every 
point.'  " 

"Where  did  we  leave  off  with  him,  sister?" 
she  asked,  turning  to  Miss  Caroline.  "Was  n't 
it  at  the  destruction  of  the  temple,  somewhere 
in  the  neighborhood  of  70  A.  D.?  We  shall 
have  to  trace  that  line  back  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, I  am  thinking,  if  we  would  know  any- 
thing on  the  subject." 

"Let 's  trace  it  then,"  said  Miss  Caroline, 
with  her  usual  alacrity. 

Several  evenings  after,  when  Bethany  came 
home  from  the  office,  she  found  a  new  book  on 
the  table,  with  Miss  Caroline's  name  on  the 
fly-leaf.  It  was  "The  Children  of  the  Ghetto." 

"I  bought  it  this  afternoon,"  she  explained, 
a  little  nervously.  "It  is  one  of  Zangwill's.  The 
clerk  at  the  bookstore  told  me  he  is  called  the 
Jewish  Dickens,  and  that  it  is  very  interesting. 


140  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Of  course,  I  am  no  critic,  but  it  looked  interest- 
ing, and  I  thought  you  might  not  mind  read- 
ing it  aloud.  Several  sentences  caught  my  eye 
that  made  me  think  it  might  be  as  entertaining 
as  'Old  Curiosity  Shop,'  or  'Oliver  Twist.'  " 

Bethany  rapidly  scanned  several  pages.  "I 
believe  it  is  the  very  thing  to  give  us  an  insight 
into  the  later  day  customs  and  beliefs  of  the 
masses." 

She  read  the  headings  of  several  of  the 
chapters  aloud,  and  a  sentence  here  and  there. 

"Listen  to  this!"  she  exclaimed.  "  'We  are 
proud  and  happy  in  that  the  dread  unknown 
God  of  the  infinite  universe  has  chosen  our  race 
as  the  medium  by  which  to  reveal  his  will  to 
the  world.  History  testifies  that  this  has  verily 
been  our  mission,  that  we  have  taught  the  world 
religion  as  truly  as  Greece  has  taught  beauty 
and  science.  Our  miraculous  survival  through 
the  cataclysms  of  ancient  and  modern  dynasties 
is  a  proof  that  our  mission  is  not  yet  over.' ' 

"O,  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  a  story!" 
exclaimed  Jack,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"It  is,  dear,"  answered  Bethany.  "You  can 
understand  part,  and  I  will  explain  the  rest." 

So  it  came  about  that,  after  the  Scotch  tales 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  141 

were  laid  aside,  the  little  group  in  the  library 
nightly  turned  their  sympathies  toward  the 
children  of  the  London  Ghetto,  as  it  existed  in 
the  early  days  of  the  century. 

"I  can  never  feel  the  same  towards  them 
again,"  said  Miss- Caroline,  the  night  they  fin- 
ished the  book.  "I  understand  them  so  much 
better.  It  is  just  as  the  proem  says:  'People 
who  have  been  living  in  a  ghetto  for  a  couple 
of  centuries  are  not  able  to  step  outside  merely 
because  the  gates  are  thrown  down,  nor  to  efface 
the  brands  on  their  souls  by  putting  off  the 
yellow  badges.  Their  faults  are  bred  of  its 
hovering  miasma  of  persecution.' ' 

"Yes,"  answered  Bethany,  "I  am  glad  he 
has  given  us  such  a  diversity  of  types.  You 
know  that  article  that  Mr.  Lessing  sent  me  says: 
'No  people  can  be  fairly  judged  by  its  superla- 
tives. It  would  be  silly  to  judge  all  the  Chinese 
by  Confucius,  or  all  the  Americans  by  Benedict 
Arnold.  If  the  Jews  squirm  and  indignantly 
protest  against  Shy  lock  and  Fagin  and  Svengali, 
they  must  be  consistent,  and  not  claim  as  types 
Scott's  Rebecca  and  Lessing's  Nathan  the  Wise.' 
Now,  Zangwill  has  given  us  a  glimpse  of  all 
sorts  of  people — the  'pots  and  pans'  of  material 


142  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Judaism,  as  well  as  the  altar-fires  of  its  most  spir- 
itual idealists.  I  hope  you  '11  go  on  another  in- 
vestigating tour,  Miss  Caroline,  and  bring  home 
something  else  as  instructive." 

But  before  Miss  Caroline  found  time  to  go 
on  another  voyage  of  discovery  among  the  book- 
stores, something  happened  at  the  office  that 
gave  a  deeper  interest  to  their  future  investiga- 
tions. 

Mr.  Edmunds  sat  at  the  table  a  few  minutes 
longer  than  usual,  one  morning  after  he  had 
finished  dictating  his  letters,  to  say:  "We  are 
about  to  make  some  changes  in  the  office,  Miss 
Hallam.  Mr.  Porter  has  decided  to  go  abroad 
for  a  while.  Family  matters  may  keep  him 
there  possibly  a  year.  During  his  absence  it  is 
necessary  to  have  some  one  in  his  place;  and, 
after  mature  deliberation,  we  have  decided  to 
take  in  a  young  lawyer  who  has  two  points 
decidedly  in  his  favor.  He  has  marked  ability, 
and  he  will  attract  a  wealthy  class  of  clients. 
He  is  a  young  Jew,  a  protege  of  Rabbi 
Barthold's.  Personally,  I  have  the  highest  re- 
spect for  him,  although  Mr.  Porter  is  a  little 
prejudiced  against  him  on  account  of  his  na- 


A  KINDLING  INTEREST.  143 

tionality.  I  wondered  if  you  shared  that  feel- 
ing." 

"No,  indeed!"  answered  Bethany,  quickly. 
"I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  studying  their 
history  this  summer." 

"Well,  I  have"  never  given  their  past  much 
thought,"  responded  Mr.  Edmunds;  "but  their 
relation  to  the  business  world  has  recently  at- 
tracted my  attention.  It  is  wonderful  to  me 
the  way  they  are  filling  up  the  positions  of 
honor  and  trust  all  over  the  world.  Statistics 
show  such  a  large  proportion  of  them  have  ac- 
quired wealth  and  prominence.  Still,  it  is  only 
what  we  ought  to  expect,  when  we  remember 
their  characteristics.  They  have  such /mental 
agility,'  such  power  of  adapting  themselves  to 
circumstances,  and  such  a  resistless  energy. 
Maybe  I  should  put  their  temperate  habits  first, 
for  I  can  not  remember  ever  seeing  a  Jew  in- 
toxicated; and  as  to  industry,  the  records  of  our 
county  poor-house  show  that  in  all  the^  seventy 
years  of  its  existence,  it  has  never  had  a  Jewish 
inmate.  People  with  such  qualities  are  like 
cream,  bound  to  rise  to  the  top,  no  matter  what 
kind  of  a  vessel  they  are  poured  into." 


144  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"Who  is  this  young  man?"  asked  Bethany, 
coming  back  to  the  first  subject. 

"David  Herschel,"  responded  Mr.  Edmunds. 
"You  may  have  met  him." 

"David  Herschel!"  repeated  Bethany,  in- 
credulously. She  caught  her  breath  in  surprise. 
Was  there  to  be  a  deliberate  crossing  of  life- 
threads  here,  or  had  she  been  caught  in  some 
tangle  of  chance?  Maybe  this  was  the  oppor- 
tunity she  had  prayed  for  that  morning  when 
she  had  listened  to  Lessing's  story,  and  caught 
the  inspiration  of  his  consecrated  life. 

A  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  her,  that  a  hu- 
man voice  could  so  reach  the  ear  of  the  Infinite, 
and  draw  down  an  answer  to  its  petition.  She 
was  almost  frightened  at  the  thought  of  the  re- 
sponsibility such  an  answer  laid  upon  her.  O, 
the  childishness  with  which  we  beat  against 
the  portals  as  we  importune  high  Heaven  for  op- 
portunities, and  then  shrink  back  when  the  Al- 
mighty hands  them  out  to  us,  afraid  to  take  and 
use  what  we  have  most  cried  for! 


CHAPTER  IX. 
A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND. 

T  was  a  sultry  morning  in  August 
when  David  Herschel  took  his  place 
in  the  law-office  of  Porter  &  Ed- 
munds. 

The  sun  beat  against  the  tall  buildings  until 
the  radiated  heat  of  the  streets  was  sickening 
in  its  intensity.  Clerks  went  to  their  work  with 
pale  faces  and  languid  movements.  Everything 
had  a  wilted  look,  and  the  watering-carts  left  a 
steam  rising  in  their  trail,  almost  as  disagreeable 
as  the  clouds  of  dust  had  been  before. 

Miss  Caroline  had  insisted  on  Jack's  remain- 
ing at  home,  and  Bethany's  wearing  a  thin  white 
dress  in  place  of  her  customary  suit  of  heavy 
black.  They  had  both  protested,  but  as  Bethany 
went  slowly  towards  the  office  she  was  glad  that 
the  sensible  old  lady  had  carried  her  point. 

To  shorten  the  distance,  she  passed  through 
one  of  the  poorer  streets  of  the  town.    Disagree- 
10  145 


146  IN   L,EAGUE  WITH   ISRAEL. 

able  odors,  suggestive  of  late  breakfasts,  lloated 
out  from  steamy  kitchens.  Neglected,  half- 
dressed  children  cried  on  the  doorsteps  and 
quarreled  in  the  gutters. 

A  great  longing  came  over  Bethany  for  a 
breath  from  wide,  fresh  fields,  or  green,  shady 
woodlands.  This  was  the  first  summer  she  had 
ever  passed  in  the  city.  August  had  always 
been  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  wind  in 
the  pine  woods,  or  the  sound  of  the  sea  on  some 
rocky  coast.  It  recalled  the  musical  drip  of  the 
waterfalls  trickling  down  high  banks  of  thickly- 
growing  ferns.  It  brought  back  the  breath  of 
clover-fields  and  the  mint  in  hillside  pastures. 

A  strong  repugnance  to  her  work  seized  her. 
She  felt  that  she  could  not  possibly  bear  to  go 
back  to  the  routine  of  the  office  and  the  mo- 
notonous click  of  her  typewriter.  The  longer 
she  thought  of  those  old  care-free  summers,  the 
more  she  chafed  at  the  confinement  of  the  pres- 
ent one. 

She  sighed  wearily  as  she  reached  the  en- 
trance of  the  great  building.  Every  door  and 
window  stood  open.  While  she  waited  for  the 
elevator-boy  to  respond  to  her  ring,  she  turned 
her  eyes  toward  the  street.  A  blind  man  passed 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        147 

by,  led  by  a  wan,  sad-eyed  child.  The  sun  was 
beating  mercilessly  on  the  man's  gray  head, 
for  his  cap  was  held  appealingly  in  his  out- 
stretched hand. 

"How  dared  I  feel  dissatisfied  with  my  lot?" 
thought  Bethany,  with  a  swift  rush  of  pity,  as 
the  contrast  between  this  blind  beggar's  life 
and  hers  was  forced  upon  her. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  office  when  she 
entered.  After  the  glare  of  the  street,  it  seemed 
so  comfortable  that  she  thought  again  of  the 
blind  beggar  and  the  child  who  led  him,  with  a 
feeling  of  remorse  for  her  discontent. 

A  great  bunch  of  lilies  stood  in  a  tall  glass 
vase  on  the  table,  filling  the  room  with  their  fra- 
grance. She  took  out  a  card  that  was  half  hid- 
den among  them.  Lightly  penciled,  in  a  small, 
running  hand,  was  the  one  word — "Consider!" 

"That's  just  like  Cousin  Ray,"  thought 
Bethany, quickly  interpreting  the  message.  "She 
knew  this  would  be  an  unusually  trying  day 
on  account  of  the  heat,  so  she  gives  me  some- 
thing to  think  about  instead  of  my  irksome  con- 
finement. 'They  toil  not,  neither  do  they 
spin,'  "  she  whispered,  lifting  one  snowy  chalice 
to  her  lips;  "but  what  help  they  bring  to  those 


148  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

who  do — sweet,  white  evangels  to  all  those  who 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden!" 

She  fastened  one  in  her  belt,  then  turned  to 
her  work.  She  had  been  copying  a  record,  and 
wanted  to  finish  it  before  Mr.  Edmunds  was 
ready  to  attend  to  the  morning  mail.  Her 
fingers  flew  over  the  keys  without  a  pause,  ex- 
cept when  she  stopped  to  put  in  a  new  sheet 
of  paper.  When  she  was  nearly  through,  she 
heard  Mr.  Edmunds's  voice  in  the  next  room, 
and  increased  her  speed.  She  had  forgotten 
that  this  was  the  day  David  Herschel  was  to 
come  into  the  office.  He  had  taken  the  desk 
assigned  him,  and  was  so  busily  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  Mr.  Edmunds  that  for  a  while 
he  did  not  notice  the  occupant  of  the  next  room. 
When,  at  last,  he  happened  to  glance  through 
the  open  door,  he  did  not  recognize  Bethany, 
for  she  was  seated  with  her  back  toward  him. 

He  noticed  what  a  cool-looking  white  dress 
she  wore,  the  graceful  poise  of  her  head,  and 
her  beautiful  sunny  hair.  Then  he  saw  the  lilies 
beside  her,  and  wished  she  would  turn  so  that 
he  could  see  her  face. 

"Some  fair  Elaine — a  lily-maid  of  Astolat," 
he  thought,  and  then  smiled  at  himself  for  hav- 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        149 

ing  grown  Tennysonian  over  a  typewriter  be- 
fore he  had  even  heard  her  name  or  seen  her 
face. 

At  last  Bethany  finished  the  record,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  Quickly  fastening  the  pages, 
she  rose  to  take  it  into  the  next  room.  Just  on 
the  threshold  she  saw  Herschel,  and  gave  an  in- 
voluntary little  start  of  surprise. 

As  she  stood  there,  all  in  white,  with  one 
hand  against  the  dark  door-casing,  she  looked 
just  as  she  had  the  night  David  first  saw  her. 
He  arose  as  she  entered. 

Mr.  Edmunds  was  not  usually  a  man  of 
quick  perceptions,  but  he  noticed  the  look  of 
admiration  in  David's  eyes,  and  he  thought  they 
both  seemed  a  trifle  embarrassed  as  he  intro- 
duced them. 

They  had  recalled  at  the  same  moment  the 
night  in  the  Chattanooga  depot,  when  she  had 
distinctly  declared  to  Mr.  Marion  that  she  did 
not  care  to  make  his  acquaintance. 

For  once  in  her  life  she  lost  her  usual  self- 
possession.  That  gracious  ease  of  manner  which 
"stamps  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere  "  was  one 
of  her  greatest  charms.  But  just  at  this  mo- 
ment, when  she  wished  to  atone  for  that  un- 


150  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

fortunate  remark  by  an  especially  friendly 
greeting,  when  she  wanted  him  to  know  that  her 
point  of  view  had  changed  entirely,  and  that 
not  a  vestige  of  the  old  prejudice  remained,  she 
could  not  summon  a  word  to  her  aid. 

Conscious  of  appearing  ill  at  ease,  she 
blushed  like  a  diffident  school-girl,  and  bowed 
coldly. 

David  courteously  remained  standing  until 
she  had  laid  the  record  on  Mr.  Edmunds's  desk 
and  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Edmunds  glanced  at  him  quickly,  as  he 
resumed  his  seat;  but  there  was  not  the  slightest 
change  of  expression  to  show  that  he  had  noticed 
what  appeared  to  be  an  intentional  haughtiness 
of  manner  in  Bethany's  greeting.  But  he  had 
noticed  it,  and  it  stung  his  sensitive  nature  more 
than  he  cared  to  acknowledge,  even  to  himself. 

Nothing  more  passed  between  them  for  sev- 
eral days,  except  the  formal  morning  greeting. 
Then  Jack  came  back  to  the  office.  He  had 
gained  rapidly  since  the  new  brace  had  been 
applied.  During  his  enforced  absence  on  ac- 
count of  the  heat,  he  found  that  he  could  wheel 
himself  short  distances,  and  proudly  insisted  on 
doing  so,  as  they  went  through  the  hall.  He  was 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        151 

a  great  favorite  in  the  building.  Everybody, 
from  the  janitor  to  the  dignified  judge  on  the 
same  floor,  stopped  to  speak  to  him.  He  was 
such  a  thorough  boy,  so  full  of  fun  and  spirits, 
despite  the  misfortune  that  chained  him  to  the 
chair  and  had  sometimes  made  him  suffer  ex- 
tremely, that  the  sight  of  him  oftener  provoked 
pleasure  than  pity.  He  was  so  glad  to  get  back 
to  the  office  that  he  was  bubbling  over  with 
happiness.  It  seemed  to  him  he  had  been  away 
for  an  age.  The  cordial  reception  he  met  on 
every  hand  made  his  eyes  twinkle  and  the 
dimples  show  in  his  cheeks. 

Mr.  Edmunds  had  not  come  down,  but  David 
was  at  his  desk,  busily  writing.  Bethany 
paused  as  they  passed  through  the  room. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  my  little  brother, 
Mr.  Herschel,"  she  said.  "Jack  is  very  anxious 
to  meet  you." 

He  glanced  up  quickly.  This  friendly- 
voiced  girl,  leaning  over  Jack's  chair,  with  the 
brightness  of  his  roguish  face  reflected  in  her 
own,  was  such  a  transformation  from  the  digni- 
fied Miss  Hallam  he  had  known  heretofore,  that 
he  could  hardly  credit  his  eyesight.  He  was 
surprised  into  such  an  unusual  cordiality  of 


152  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

manner,  that  Jack  straightway  took  him  into 
his  affections,  and  set  about  cultivating  a  very 
strong  friendship  between  them. 

One  afternoon  Bethany  was  called  into  an- 
other office  to  take  a  deposition.  She  left  Jack 
busy  drawing  on  his  slate. 

David,  who  had  been  reading  several  hours, 
laid  down  the  book  after  a  while,  with  a  yawn, 
and  glanced  into  the  next  room.  The  steady 
scratch  of  the  slate  pencil  had  ceased,  and  Jack 
was  gazing  disconsolately  out  of  the  window. 

As  he  heard  the  book  drop  on  the  table  he 
turned  his  head  quickly.  ''May  I  come  in 
there?"  he  asked  David  eagerly. 

David  nodded  assent.  "You  may  come  in 
and  wake  me  up.  The  heat  and  the  book  to- 
gether, have  made  me  drowsy." 

Jack  pushed  his  chair  over  by  a  window,  and 
looked  out  towards  the  court  house.  It  was  late 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  massive  building  threw 
long  shadows  across  the  green  sward  surround- 
ing it. 

"I  wanted  to  see  if  the  flag  is  flying,"  said 
Jack.  "I  can't  tell  from  my  window.  Do  n't 
you  love  to  watch  it  flap?  I  do,  for  it  always 
makes  me  think  of  heroes.  I  love  he- 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        153 

roes,  and  I  love  to  listen  to  stories  about 
'em.  Don't  you?  •  It  makes  you  feel  so 
creepy,  and  your  hair  kind  o'  stands  up,  and  you 
hold  your  breath  while  they  're  a-risking  their 
lives  to  save  somebody,  or  doing  something 
else  that 's  awfully  brave.  And  then,  when 
they  've  done  it,  there  's  a  lump  in  your  throat; 
but  you  feel  so  warm  all  over  somehow,  and  you 
want  to  cheer,  and  march  right  off  to  'storm  the 
heights,'  and  wipe  every  thing  mean  off  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  do  all  sorts  of  big,  brave  things. 
I  always  do.  Do  n't  you?" 

"Yes,"  answered  David,  amused  by  his  boy- 
ish enthusiasm,  yet  touched  by  the  recognition 
of  a  kindred  spirit.  "May  be  you  will  be  a  hero 
yourself,  some  day,"  he  suggested  in  order  to 
lead  the  boy  further  on. 

"No,  I  'm  afraid  not,"  answered  Jack,  sadly. 
"Papa  wanted  me  to  be  a  lawyer.  He  was  in  the 
war  till  he  got  wounded  so  bad  he  had  to  come 
home.  We've  got  his  sword  and  cap  yet.  I  used 
to  put  'em  on  sometimes,  and  say  I  was  going 
to  go  to  West  Point  and  learn  to  be  a  soldier. 
But  he  always  shook  his  head  and  said,  'No,  son, 
that 's  not  the  highest  way  you  can  serve  your 
country  now.'  Then  sometimes  I  think  I  '11 


154  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

have  to  be  a  preacher  like  my  grandfather,  John 
Wesley  Bradford,  because  he  left  me  all  his 
library,  and  I  am  named  for  him.  Jack  isn't 
my  real  name,  you  know." 

"Would  you  like  to  be  a  preacher?"  asked 
David,  as  the  boy  paused  to  catch  a  fly  that  was 
buzzing  exasperatingly  around  him. 

"No!"  answered  Jack,  emphasizing  his  an- 
swer by  a  savage  slap  at  the  fly.  "Only  except 
when  we  get  to  talking  about  the  Jews.  You 
know  we  are  very  much  interested  in  your  people 
at  our  house." 

"No,  I  did  n't  know  it,"  answered  David, 
amused  by  the  boy's  matter-of-fact  announce- 
ment. "How  did  you  come  to  be  so  interested?" 

"Well,  it  started  with  the  Epvvorth  League 
Conference  at  Chattanooga.  There  was  a  con- 
verted Jew  up  there  on  the  mountain  that  spoke 
in  the  sunrise  meeting.  Cousin  Frank  went  to 
see  him  afterwards.  He  took  Bethany  with  him 
to  write  down  what  they  said  in  shorthand.  O, 
he  had  the  most  interesting  history!  You  just 
ought  to  hear  sister  tell  it.  You  know  the  two 
old  ladies  I  told  you  about,  that  live  at  our  house. 
Well,  may  be  it  is  n't  polite  to  tell  you  so,  but 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        155 

they  did  n't  have  the  least  bit  of  use  for  the  Jews 
before  that.  Now,  since  we  've  been  reading 
about  the  awful  way  they  were  persecuted,  and 
how  they  've  hung  together  through  thick  and 
thin,  they  've  changed  their  minds." 

"And  you  say  that  it  is  only  when  you  are 
talking  about  the  Jews  that  you  would  like  to  be 
a  preacher,"  said  David,  as  the  boy  stopped,  and 
began  whistling  softly.  He  wanted  to  bring 
him  back  to  the  subject. 

"Yes,"  answered  Jack.  "When  I  think  how 
that  man's  whole  life  was  changed  by  a  little 
Junior  League  girl;  how  she  started  him,  and 
he  '11  start  others,  and  they  '11  start  somebody 
else,  and  the  ball  will  keep  rolling,  and  so  much 
good  will  be  done,  just  on  her  account,  I  'd  like 
to  do  something  in  that  line  myself.  I  'm  first 
vice-president  of  our  League,  you  know,"  he 
said,  proudly  displaying  the  badge  pinned  on 
his  coat. 

"But  I  would  n't  like  to  be  a  regular 
preacher  that  just  stands  up  and  tells  people 
what  they  already  believe.  That 's  too  much  like 
boxing  a  pillow."  He  doubled  up  his  fist  and 
sparred  at  an  imaginary  foe. 


156  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  'd  like  to  go  off  somewhere,  like  Paul  did, 
and  make  every  blow  count.  We  studied  the  life 
of  Paul  last  year  in  the  League.  Talk  about 
heroes — there  's  one  for  you.  My,  but  he  was 
game!  Thrashed  and  stoned,  and  shipwrecked 
and  put  in  prison,  and  chained  up  to  another 
man — but  they  could  n't  choke  him  off!"  Jack 
chuckled  at  the  thought. 

"Did  you  ever  notice,"  he  continued,  "that 
when  a  Jew  does  turn  Christian  he  's  deader  in 
earnest  than  anybody  else?  Cousin  Frank  told 
us  to  notice  that.  There  's  Matthew.  He  was 
making  a  good  salary  in  the  custom-house,  and 
he  quit  right  off.  And  Peter  and  Andrew  and 
the  rest  of  'em  left  their  boats  and  all  their  fish- 
ing tackle,  and  every  thing  in  the  wide  world 
that  they  owned.  Mr.  Lessing  had  even  to  give 
up  his  family.  Cousin  Frank  told  us  about  ever 
so  many  that  had  done  that  way.  So  that 's  why 
I  'd  rather  preach  to  them  than  other  people. 
They  amount  to  so  much  when  you  once  get 
them  made  over." 

"You  might  commence  on  me,"  said  David. 

Jack  colored  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and 
looked  confused.  He  stole  a  sidelong  glance  at 


A  JUNIOR  TAKRS  IT  IN  HAND.        157 

David,  and  began  to  wheel  his  chair  slowly  back 
into  the  other  room. 

"I  have  n't  gone  into  the  business  yet,"  he 
called  back  over  his  shoulder,  recovering  his 
equanimity  with  young  American  quickness, 
"But  when  I  do  P'll  give  you  the  first  call." 

David  was  so  amused  by  the  conversation 
that  he  could  not  refrain  from  recounting  part 
of  it  to  Bethany  when  she  returned.  It  seemed 
to  put  them  on  a  friendlier  footing. 

Finding  that  she  was  really  making  a  study 
of  the  history  of  his  people,  he  gave  her  many 
valuable  suggestions,  and  several  times  brought 
Jewish  periodicals  with  articles  marked  for  her 
to  read. 

"My  Sunday-school  class  have  become  so  in- 
terested," she  told  him.  "They  are  very  well 
versed  in  the  ancient  history,  but  this  is  some- 
thing so  new  to  them." 

"I  wish  you  knew  Rabbi  Barthold,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "He  would  be  an  inspiration  in  any 
line  of  study,  but  especially  in  this,  for  he  has 
thrown  his  whole  soul  into  it.  Ah,  I  wish  you 
read  Hebrew.  One  loses  so  much  in  the  trans- 
lation. There  are  places  in  the  Psalms  and  Job 


158  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

where  the  majesty  of  the  thought  is  simply  un- 
translatable. You  know  there  are  some  pebbles 
and  shells  that,  seen  in  water,  have  the  most  ex- 
quisite delicacy  of  coloring;  yet  taken  from 
that  element,  they  lose  that  brilliancy.  I  have 
noticed  the  same  effect  in  changing  a  thought 
from  the  medium  of  one  language  to  another." 

"Yes,"  answered  Bethany,  "I  have  recog- 
nized that  difficulty,  too,  in  translating  from  the 
German.  There  is  a  subtle  something  that  es- 
capes, that  while  it  does  not  change  the  sub- 
stance, leaves  the  verse  as  soulless  as  a  flower 
without  its  fragrance." 

"Ah!  I  see  you  understand  me,"  he  re- 
sponded. "That  is  why  I  would  have  you  read 
the  greatest  of  all  literature  in  its  original  set- 
ting. Are  you  fond  of  language?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "though  not  an  en- 
thusiast. I  took  the  course  in  Latin  and  German 
at  school,  and  got  a  smattering  of  French  the 
year  I  was  abroad.  Afterwards  I  read  Greek 
a  little  at  home  with  papa,  to  get  a  better  under- 
standing of  the  New  Testament.  But  Hebrew 
always  seemed  to  me  so  very  difficult  that  only 
spectacled  theologians  attempted  it.  You  know 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        159 

ordinary  tourists  ascend  the  Rigi  and  Vesuvius 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Only  daring  climbers 
attempt  the  Jungfrau.  I  scaled  only  the  heights 
made  easy  of  ascent  by  a  system  of  meister- 
schafts  and  mountain  railways." 

He  laughed.  ""Hebrew  is  not  so  difficult  as 
you  imagine,  Miss  Hallam.  Any  one  that  can 
master  stenography  can  easily  compass  that. 
There  is  a  similarity  in  one  respect.  In  both, 
dots  and  dashes  take  the  place  of  vowels.  I  will 
bring  you  a  grammar  to-morrow,  and  show  you 
how  easy  the  rudiments  are." 

Jack  was  more  interested  than  Bethany.  He 
had  never  seen  a  book  in  Hebrew  type  before. 
The  square,  even  characters  charmed  him,  and 
he  began  to  copy  them  on  his  slate. 

"I  'd  like  to  learn  this,"  he  announced. 
"The  letters  are  nothing  but  chairs  and  tables." 

"It  was  a  picture  language  in  the  begin- 
ning," said  David,  leaning  over  his  chair,  much 
pleased  with  his  interest.  "Xow,  that  first  letter 
used  to  be  the  head  of  an  ox.  See  how  the  horns 
branch?-  And  this  next  one,  Beth,  was  a  house. 
Do  n't  you  remember  how  many  names  in  the 
Bible  begin  with  that — Beth-el,  Beth-horon, 


160  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Beth-Shan — they  all  mean  house  of  something; 
house  of  God,  house  of  caves,  house  of  rest." 

Jack  gave  a  whistled  "whe-ew!"  "It  would 
teach  a  fellow  lots.  What  are  you  a  house  of, 
Beth-any?" 

He  looked  up,  but  his  sister  had  been  called 
into  the  next  room. 

"Would  you  really  like  to  study  it,  Jack?" 
asked  David.  "It  will  be  a  great  help  to  you 
when  you  'go  into  the  business'  of  preaching  to 
us  Jews." 

Jack  tilted  his  head  to  one  side,  and  thrust  his 
tongue  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth  in  an  em- 
barrassed way.  Then  he  looked  up,  and  saw  that 
David  was  not  laughing  at  him,  but  soberly 
awaiting  his  answer. 

"Yes,  I  really  would,"  he  answered,  de- 
cidedly. 

"Then  I  '11  teach  you  as  long  as  you  are  in 
the  office." 

Mr.  Marion  came  in  one  day  and  saw  David's 
dark  head  and  Jack's  yellow  one  bending  over 
the  same  page,  and  listened  to  the  boy's  enthu- 
siastic explanation  of  the  letters. 

"I  wish  we  could  form  a  class  of  our  Sabbath- 


A  JUNIOR  TAKES  IT  IN  HAND.        161 

school  teachers/'  said  Mr.  Marion.  "Would  you 
undertake  to  teach  it,  Herschel?" 

The  young  man  hesitated.  "If  it  were  con- 
venient I  might  make  the  attempt,"  he  said. 
"But  I  do  not  live  in  the  city.  My  home  is  out 
at  Hillhollow."  : 

Then,  after  a  pause,  while  some  other  plan 
seemed  to  be  revolving  in  his  mind,  he  asked: 
"Why  not  get  Rabbi  Barthold?  He  is  a  born 
teacher,  and  nothing  would  delight  him  more 
than  to  imbue  some  other  soul  with  a  zeal  for  his 
beloved  mother-tongue." 

"I  '11  certainly  take  the  matter  into  consid- 
eration," responded  Mr.  Marion,  "if  you  will  get 
his  consent,  and  find  what  his  terms  are.  Beth- 
any, I  '11  head  the  list  with  your  name.  Then 
there  's  Ray  and  myself.  That  makes  three,  and 
I  know  at  least  three  of  my  teachers  that  I  am 
sure  of.  I  wish  George  Cragmore  were  here. 
Do  you  know,  Bethany,  it  would  not  surprise  me 
very  much  if  the  Conference  sends  him  here  this 
fall?" 

"Not  in  Dr.  Bascom's  place,"  she  exclaimed. 

"O  no,  he  is  too  young  a  man  for  Garrison 
Avenue,  and  unmarried  besides.  But  I  heard 
11 


162  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

that  the  Clark  Street  Church  had  asked  for  him. 
I  hope  the  bishop  will  consider  the  call." 

"Do  n't  set  your  heart  on  it,  Cousin  Frank," 
she  answered.  "You  know  what  is  apt  to  befall 
'the  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men.'  " 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY. 

UGUST  slipped  into  September.     The 
vase   on   Bethany's   desk,    that   Mrs. 
Marion   had   kept   filled   with   lilies, 
brightened  the  room  with  the  glow 
of  the  earliest  golden-rod. 

"Is  n't  it  pretty?"  said  Jack,  drawing  a  spray 
through  his  fingers.  "It  makes  me  think  of 
your  hair,  sister.  They  are  both  so  soft  and 
fuzzy-looking." 

"And  like  the  sunshine,"  added  David  men- 
tally, wishing  he  dared  express  his  admiration 
as  openly  as  Jack.  His  desk  was  at  an  angle 
overlooking  Bethany's,  and  he  often  studied  her 
face  while  she  worked,  as  he  would  have  studied 
some  rare  portrait — not  so  much  for  the  perfect 
contour  and  delicacy  of  coloring  as  for  the  soul 
that  shone  through  it. 

She  had  seldom  spoken  to  him  of  spiritual 
things.  It  was  from  Jack  he  learned  how  in- 
terested she  was  in  all  her  Church  relationships. 

163 


164  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Still  he  felt  forcibly  an  influence  that  he  could 
not  define;  that  silent  charm  of  a  consecrated 
life,  linked  close  with  the  perfect  life  of  the 
Master. 

One  day  when  he  was  thus  idly  occupied, 
the  janitor  tiptoed  into  the  room,  ushering  a  lady 
past  to  Bethany's  desk.  David  looked  up  as  she 
passed,  attracted  by  her  unusual  costume.  It 
was  all  black,  except  that  there  were  deep,  white 
cuffs  rolled  back  over  the  sleeves,  and  a  large, 
white  collar.  The  close-fitting  black  bonnet  was 
tied  under  the  chin  with  broad  white  bows.  She 
was  a  sweet-faced  woman,  with  strong,  capable 
looking  hands. 

David  heard  Bethany  exclaim,  "Why,  Jo- 
sephine Bentley!"  as  if  much  surprised  to  see 
her.  Then  they  stood  face  to  face,  holding  each 
other's  hands  while  they  talked  in  low,  rapid 
tones. 

The  stranger  staid  only  a  few  moments. 
After  she  passed  out,  David  strolled  leisurely  up 
to  Bethany's  desk. 

"I  hope  you  '11  excuse  my  curiosity,  Miss 
Hallam,"  he  said.  "I  am  interested  in  the  cos- 
tume of  the  lady  who  was  here  just  now.  I  've 
seen  one  like  it  before.  Can  you  tell  me  to  what 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  165 

order  she  belongs?  Is  it  anything  like  the  Sis- 
ters of  Charity?" 

"Yes,  something  like  it,"  she  answered. 
"She  is  a  deaconess.  There  is  this  difference. 
They  take  no  vows  of  perpetual  service  to  the 
order,  but  their  lives  are  as  entirely  consecrated 
to  their  work  as  though  they  had  'taken  the  veil/ 
as  the  nuns  call  it.  This  friend  of  mine  who  was 
just  here,  is  a  visiting  deaconess.  She  goes  about 
doing  good  in  the  Master's  own  way,  to  rich  and 
poor  alike.  She  came  in  just  now  to  report  a 
case  of  destitution  she  had  discovered.  I  am 
chairman  of  the  Mercy  and  Help  Department 
in  our  League." 

"Is  that  all  they  do?"  asked  David. 

"All!"  repeated  Bethany.  "You  should  see 
the  Deaconess  Home  on  Clark  Street.  They 
have  a  hospital  there,  and  a  Kitchen-garten.  It 
is  the  work  of  some  of  these  women  to  gather  in 
all  the  poor,  neglected  girls  they  can  find.  They 
make  it  so  very  attractive  that  the  poor  children 
are  taught  to  be  respectable  little  housekeepers, 
without  suspecting  that  the  music  and  games 
are  really  lessons.  Homes  that  could  be  reached 
in  no  other  way  have  some  wonderful  changes 
wrought  in  them." 


166  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"You  have  so  many  different  organizations 
in  your  Church,"  said  David.  "Seems  to  me  I 
am  always  hearing  of  a  new  one.  There  is  an 
old  saying,  'Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth.' 
Did  you  never  prove  the  truth  of  that?" 

"Now,  that 's  one  beauty  of  Methodism," 
exclaimed  Bethany.  "The  little  wheels  all  fit 
into  the  big  one  like  so  many  cogs,  and  all  help 
each  other.  For  instance,  here  is  the  deaconess 
work.  It  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  League, 
only  reaching  out  farther,  with  our  motto  of  'Lift 
Up,'  for  they  have  an  'open  sesame'  that  unbars 
all  avenues  to  them.  Of  all  hard,  self-sacrificing 
lives,  it  seems  to  me  a  nurse  deaconess  has  the 
hardest.  She  goes  only  into  homes  unable  to 
pay  for  such  services,  and  whatever  there  is  to 
do  in  the  way  of  nursing,  or  of  cleansing  these 
poverty-stricken  homes,  she  does  unflinchingly." 

"The  reason  I  asked,"  answered  David,  "is 
that  one  day  last  week  I  went  down  to  that  ter- 
rible quarter  of  the  city  near  the  lower  wharves. 
I  wanted  to  find  a  man  who  I  knew  would  be 
a  valuable  witness  in  the  Dartmon  murder  case. 
I  had  been  told  that  the  only  time  to  find  him 
would  be  before  six  o'clock,  as  he  was  u  deck- 
hand on  one  of  the  early  boats.  I  had  been 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  167 

directed  to  a  laundry-office  in  a  row  of  rotten 
old  tenements  near  the  river.  I  found  the  room 
used  as  an  office  was  down  in  a  damp  basement. 
It  was  about  half-past  five  when  I  reached  there. 
I  went  down  the  rickety  old  stairs  and  knocked 
several  times.  You  can  imagine  my  surprise 
when  the  door  was  opened  by  a  refined-looking 
woman,  in  just  such  a  costume  as  your  friend 
wore,  except,  of  course,  the  little  bonnet.  When 
I  told  her  my  errand,  she  asked  me  to  step  inside 
a  moment.  The  smell  of  sewer-gas  almost  stifled 
me  at  first.  There  was  a  narrow  counter  where 
a  few  bundles  were  lying,  still  uncalled  for.  I 
learned  afterward,  that  the  laundry  had  failed, 
and  these  were  left  to  await  claimants.  There 
was  a  calico  curtain  stretched  across  the  room 
to  form  a  partition.  She  drew  it  aside,  and 
motioned  me  to  look  in.  There  was  a  table,  two 
chairs,  a  gasoline  stove,  and  an  old  bed.  Lying 
across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  as  if  utterly  worn-out 
with  weariness  and  sorrow,  lay  a  young  girl 
heavily  sleeping.  A  baby,  only  a  few  months 
old,  was  lying  among  the  pillows,  as  white  and 
still  as  if  it  were  dead.  The  woman  dropped  the 
curtain  with  a  shudder.  'It  is  the  poor  girl's 
husband  you  are  looking  for,'  she  said.  'He  is 


168  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

a  rough,  drunken  fellow,  and  has  been  away  for 
days,  nobody  knows  where.  The  baby  is  dying. 
I  was  called  here  at  three  o'clock  this  morning. 
A  physician  came  for  me,  but  he  said  it  could  not 
live  many  hours.  O,  it  was  awful!  The  cock- 
roaches swarmed  all  over  the  floor,  and  the  rats 
were  so  bad  they  fairly  ran  over  our  feet.  The 
poor  girl  sank  in  a  heavy  stupor  soon  after  I 
came,  from  sheer  exhaustion.  There  is  nothing 
to  eat  in  the  house,  and  the  milk  I  brought  with 
me  for  the  baby  has  soured.  It  seems  a  dreadful 
thing  to  say,  but  I  dare  not  leave  the  baby  while 
she  is  asleep  long  enough  to  get  anything — on 
account  of  the  rats.'  Of  course  I  went  out  and 
got  the  things  she  needed.  Then  there  was 
nothing  more  I  could  do,  she  said.  The 
wretched  poverty  of  the  scene,  and  the  woman's 
bravery,  have  been  in  my  thoughts  ever  since." 
"I  heard  of  that  case  yesterday,"  Bethany 
said,  when  he  had  finished.  "I  know  the  nurse, 
Belle  Carleton.  The  baby  died,  and  they  took 
the  mother  to  the  Deaconess  Hospital.  She  has 
typhoid  fever.  Belle  told  me  of  another  experi- 
ence she  had.  Her  life  is  full  of  them.  She  was 
sent  to  a  family  where  drunkenness  was  the  cause 
of  the  poverty.  The  man  had  not  had  steady 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  169 

work  for  a  year,  because  he  was  never  sober  more 
than  a  few  days  at  a  time.  They  lived  in  three 
rooms  in  the  rear  basement  of  a  large  tenement- 
house.  Belle  said,  when  she  opened  the  door  of 
the  first  room,  it  seemed  the  most  forlorn  place 
she  had  ever  seen.  There  was  a  table  piled  full 
of  dirty  dishes,  and  a  cooking-stove  covered  with 
ashes,  on  which  stood  a  wash-boiler  filled  with 
half-washed  clothes.  The  floor  looked  as  if  it 
had  never  known  the  touch  of  a  broom.  The 
odor  of  the  boiling  suds  was  sickening.  A  slat- 
ternly, half-grown  girl,  one  of  the  neighbors, 
stood  beside  a  leaky  tub,  washing  as  best  she 
knew  how.  Four  dirty,  half-starved  children 
were  playing  on  the  bare  floor.  Their  mother 
was  sick  in  the  next  room.  I  could  n't  begin  to 
repeat  Belle's  description  of  that  bedroom,  it 
was  so  filthy  and  infested  with  vermin.  She 
said,  when  she  saw  all  that  must  be  done,  that 
repulsive  creature  bathed,  the  dishes  washed, 
and  the  floor  scrubbed,  a  great  loathing  came 
over  her.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  possibly 
touch  a  thing  in  the  room.  She  wanted  to  turn 
and  run  away  from  it  all.  I  said  to  her,  'O, 
Belle,  how  could  you  force  yourself  to  do  such 
repulsive  things?' ' 


170  IN    L,EAGUE   WITH    ISRAEL. 

"What  did  she  say?"  exclaimed  Herschel. 

Bethany's  face  reflected  some  of  the  tender- 
ness that  must  have  shone  in  Belle  Carleton's, 
as  she  repeated  her  answer  softly,  "For  Jesus' 
sake!" 

There  was  a  long  pause,  which  Herschel 
broke  by  saying:  "And  she  staid  there,  I  sup- 
pose, forced  her  shrinking  hands  into  contact 
with  what  she  despised,  did  the  most  menial 
services,  from  a  sense  of  duty  to  a  man  whom 
she  had  never  seen,  who  died  centuries  ago? 
Miss  Hallam,  how  could  she?  I  find  it  very  hard 
to  understand." 

"No,  not  from  a  sense  of  duty,"  corrected 
Bethany,  "so  much  as  love." 

"Well,  for  love  then.  What  was  there  in 
this  man  of  Nazareth  to  inspire  such  devotion 
after  such  a  lapse  of  time?  I  understand  how 
one  might  admire  his  ethical  teaching,  how  one 
might  even  try  to  embody  his  precepts  in  a  code 
to  live  by;  but  how  he  can  inspire  such  sublime 
annihilation  of  self,  surpasses  my  comprehen- 
sion. He  was  no  greater  lawgiver  than  Moses, 
yet  who  makes  such  sacrifices  for  the  love  of 
Moses?  Peter  suffered  martyrdom,  and  Paul; 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  171 

yet  who  is  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  cheerfully 
and  say,  'I  do  it  for  the  sake  of  Peter — or 
Paul?'" 

"Mr.  Herschel,"  said  Bethany,  looking  up 
at  him  wistfully,  "do  n't  you  see  that  it  is  no 
mere  man  who  exercises  such  power;  that  he 
must  be  what  he  claimed — one  with  the 
Father?" 

Cragmore's  passionate  exclamation  that  day 
on  the  train  came  back  to  him:  "O,  my  friend, 
if  you  could  only  see  my  Savior  as  he  has  been 
revealed  to  me!" 

Then  he  seemed  to  hear  Lessing's  voice  as 
they  paced  back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  tent, 
arm  in  arm  in  the  darkness. 

"Of  a  truth  you  can  not  understand  these 
things,  unless  you  be  born  again — be  born  of 
the  Spirit,  into  a  realm  of  spiritual  knowledge 
you  have  never  yet  even  dreamed  of.  Winged  life 
is  latent  in  the  worm,  even  while  it  has  no  con- 
ception of  any  existence  higher  than  the  cab- 
bage-leaf it  crawls  upon.  But  how  is  it  possible 
for  it  to  conceive  of  flight  until  it  has  passed 
through  some  change  that  bursts  the  chrysalis 
and  provides  the  wings?" 


172  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  silence  was  growing  oppressive.  David 
shook  his  head,  rose,  and  slowly  walked  out  of 
the  room. 

"Sister,"  said  Jack,  a  few  days  after,  as  she 
wheeled  him  homeward  from  the  office  at  noon- 
time, "Mr.  Herschel  keeps  teasing  me  all  the 
time  about  something  I  said  once  about  preach- 
ing to  the  Jews.  He  brings  it  up  so  often,  that 
if  he  does  n't  look  out  I  '11  begin  on  him  sure 
enough." 

Whatever  answer  Bethany  might  have  made 
was  interrupted  by  Miss  Caroline,  who  met  them 
as  they  turned  a  corner. 

"Do  tell!"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "You 
were  in  my  mind  just  this  minute.  I  wondered 
if  I  might  not  chance  to  meet  you." 

"Where  have  you  been,  Aunt  Carrie?"  asked 
Jack,  seeing  that  she  carried  several  small 
parcels. 

"Shopping,"  she  said.  "Just  think  of  it! 
Caroline  Courtney  actually  out  shopping  in  the 
dry-goods  stores." 

"What's  the  occasion?"  asked  Bethany. 
"It  must  be  something  important.  I  can't  re- 
member that  you  have  done  such  a  thing  before 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  173 

since  I  have  known  you.     Have  you  been  in- 
vited to  a  ball,  a  wedding,  or  a  wake?" 

Miss  Caroline  beamed  on  them  through  her 
spectacles.  "Really,  my  dears,  that  is  just  what 
I  would  like  to  know  myself.  That 's  why  I  had 
to  make  these  purchases.  Your  cousin  Ray 
came  in  this  morning,  just  after  you  had  gone, 
to  invite  us  all  to  go  to  her  house  at  half-past  six 
this  evening.  She  would  n't  tell  us  what  sort 
of  an  occasion  she  was  planning,  only  that  it  was 
a  surprise  for  everybody,  Mr.  Marion  most  of 
all.  He  has  been  gone  a  week  on  a  business  trip, 
but  will  get  home  to-night  at  six.  Sister  and  I 
have  been  trying  to  think  what  kind  of  an  occa- 
sion it  could  be.  I  know  it  is  n't  their  wedding 
anniversary,  nor  her  birthday.  Maybe  it  is  his. 
So  you  see  we  could  n't  decide  just  how  we  ought 
to  dress — whether  to  wear  our  very  best  dove- 
colored  silks  and  point  lace,  or  the  black  crepon 
dresses  we  have  had  two  seasons.  Sister  abso- 
lutely refuses  to  carry  her  elegant  fan  that  she 
got  in  Brussels,  although  I  want  very  much  to 
take  mine,  especially  if  we  wear  the  gray  dresses. 
My  second  best  is  broken,  and  of  course  we 
would  n't  want  to  carry  a  palm-leaf.  There  was 
no  other  way  but  to  take  the  second  best  fan 


174  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

down  and  match  it.  Then  she  had  lost  one  of  the 
bows  of  ribbon  that  was  on  her  gray  dress,  and 
I  had  to  match  that,  in  case  we  decided  to  wear 
the  grays.  Here  I  have  spent  the  whole  morn- 
ing over  my  fan  and  her  ribbon." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Jack.  "Why  don't  you 
carry  your  Brussels  fan  and  wear  your  gray 
dress,  and  let  her  wear  her  black  dress  and  take 
the  kind  of  fan  she  wanted?" 

"O,  my  child!"  exclaimed  Miss  Caroline, 
"Neither  of  us  would  have  taken  a  mite  of  com- 
fort so.  You  do  n't  understand  how  it  feels 
when  there  are  two  of  you.  When  you  have 
spent — well,  a  great  many  years,  in  having 
things  alike,  you  do  n't  feel  comfortable  unless 
you  are  in  pairs." 

It  was  arranged  that  Jack  should  not  go  back 
to  the  office  that  afternoon.  The  sisters  volun- 
teered to  take  him  with  them. 

Bethany  hurried  through  her  work,  but  it 
seemed  to  her  she  had  never  had  so  many  inter- 
ruptions, or  so  much  to  do. 

It  was  after  six  when  she  closed  her  desk. 
Mr.  Edmunds  noticed  the  tired  look  on  her 
flushed  face,  and  said: 

"Miss  Hallam,  my  carriage  is  waiting  down 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  175 

stairs.  I  have  to  stay  here  some  time  longer  to 
meet  a  man  who  is  late  in  keeping  his  engage- 
ment. Jerry  may  as  well  take  you  home  while 
he  is  waiting."  He  went  down  on  the  elevator 
with  her,  and  handed  her  into  the  carriage. 

"Better  stay  out  in  the  fresh  air  a  little  be- 
fore you  start  home,"  he  said,  kindly.  ''It  will 
do  you  good." 

Bethany  sank  back  gratefully  among  the 
cushions.  Jerry  had  been  her  father's  coach- 
man at  one  time.  He  grinned  from  ear  to  ear 
as  she  took  her  seat. 

"We  '11  take  a  spin  along  the  river  road," 
she  said.  "Give  me  a  glimpse  of  the  fields  and 
the  golden-rod,  and  then  take  me  to  Mrs.  Ma- 
rion's, on  Phillips  Avenue." 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  Jerry,  touching  his  hat. 
"I  know  all  the  roads  you  like  best!" 

The  impatient  horses  needed  no  urging. 
They  fairly  flew  down  the  beaten  track  that  led 
from  the  noisy,  bouldered  streets  into  the  grassy 
byways.  On  they  went,  past  suburban  orchards 
and  outlying  pastures,  to  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  real  country. 

Bethany  heard  the  slow,  restful  tinkle  of 
bells  in  a  quiet  lane  where  the  cows  stood  softly 


176  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

lowing  at  the  bars.  She  heard  the  coo  of  doves 
in  the  distance,  and  the  call  of  a  quail  in  a  brown 
stubble-field  near  by.  Then  the  wind  swept  up 
from  the  river,  now  turning  red  in  the  sunset. 
It  put  new  life  into  her  pulses,  and  a  new  light 
in  her  eyes.  The  weariness  was  all  gone.  The 
wind  had  blown  the  light,  curly  hair  about  her 
face,  and  she  put  up  her  hands  to  smooth  it  back, 
as  they  came  in  sight  of  Mrs.  Marion's  house. 

"It  does  n't  make  any  difference,"  she 
thought.  "I  can  run  up  into  Cousin  Ray's  room 
and  put  myself  in  order  before  any  one  sees  me." 

As  the  carriage  stopped,  some  one  stepped 
up  quickly  to  assist  her  alight.  It  was  David 
Herschel. 

"Of  all  times!"  she  thought;  "when  I  am 
literally  blown  to  pieces.  How  queerly  things 
do  happen  in  this  world!" 

To  her  still  greater  wonderment,  instead  of 
closing  the  gate  after  her  and  going  on  down 
the  street,  he  followed  her  up  the  steps. 

"Cousin  Ray  said  this  was  to  be  a  surprise," 
she  thought.  "This  must  be  part  of  it." 

Miss  Harriet  and  Miss  Caroline  had  just 
smoothed  their  plumage  in  the  guest-chamber, 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  177 

and  were  coining  down  the  stairs  hand  in  hand 
as  David  and  Bethany  entered  the  reception- 
hall. 

This  was  their  first  glimpse  of  David.  They 
had  been  very  curious  to  see  him.  Jack  had 
talked  about  him -so  much  that  they  recognized 
him  instantly  from  his  description. 

Miss  Caroline  squeezed  Miss  Harriet's  hand, 
and  said  in  a  dramatic  whisper,  "Sister!  the 
surprise." 

"Look  at  Bethany,"  remarked  Miss  Harriet. 
"How  unusually  bright  she  looks,  and  yet  a 
little  flushed  and  confused.  I  wonder  if  he  has 
been  saying  anything  to  her.  They  came  in 
together." 

"Pooh!"  puffed  Miss  Caroline.  Then  they 
both  moved  forward  with  their  most  beaming 
"company  smile,"  as  Jack  called  it,  to  meet  Mr. 
Herschel. 

"Come  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Marion,  leading 
the  way  into  the  drawing-room,  while  Bethany 
made  her  escape  up  stairs. 

"Mrs.  Courtney,  allow  me  to  introduce  Mrs. 
Dameron." 

"Sally  Atwater!"  fairly  shrieked  Miss  Caro- 


178  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

line  and  Miss  Harriet  in  chorus,  as  a  tall,  thin 
woman,  with  gray  hair  and  sharp,  twinkling 
eyes  rose  to  meet  them;  "Sally  Atwater,  for  the 
land's  sake!  how  did  you  ever  happen  to  get 
here?" 

"It 's  an  old  school  friend  of  theirs,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Marion  to  David,  as  the  twins  stood 
on  tiptoe  to  grasp  her  around  the  neck  and  kiss 
her  repeatedly  between  their  exclamations  of 
joyful  surprise.  "They  have  n't  seen  her  since 
they  were  married.  I  '11  present  you,  and  then 
we  '11  leave  them  to  have  a  good  old  gossip." 

During  the  introductions  in  the  drawing- 
room,  Mr.  Marion  came  into  the  hall,  with  his 
gripsack  in  his  hand. 

Why,  hello,  Jack!"  he  called  cheerily. 
"How  are  you,  my  boy?  I  'in  so  glad  to  see 
you." 

He  hung  up  his  hat,  and  went  forward  to  clap 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  hold  the  little  hands 
lovingly  in  his  big,  strong  ones.  While  he  still 
sat  on  the  arm  of  Jack's  chair,  there  was  a  sud- 
den parting  of  the  portieres  behind  them,  a  swift 
rustle,  and  two  white  hands  met  over  his  eyes 
and  blindfolded  him. 

"O!  O!"  cried  Jack  ecstatically,  and  then 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  179 

clapped  his  hand  over  his  mouth  as  he  heard  a 
warning  "Sh!" 

"It 's  Ra^y,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Marion, 
laughing  and  reaching  backwards  to  seize  who- 
ever had  blindfolded  him.  "Nobody  else  would 
take  such  liberties."" 

"O,  would  n't  they?"  cried  a  mocking  voice. 
"What  about  Ray's  younger  sister?" 

He  turned  around,  and  catching  her  by  the 
shoulders,  held  her  out  in  front  of  him. 

"Well,  Lois  Denning!"  he  exclaimed  in 
amazement.  "When  did  you  get  here,  little 
sister?  I  never  imagined  you  were  within  two 
hundred  miles  of  this  place." 

"Neither  did  Ray  until  this  morning.  I 
just  walked  in  unannounced." 

When  he  had  given  her  a  hearty  welcome 
she  said :  "O,  I  'm  not  the  only  one  to  surprise 
you.  Just  go  in  the  other  room,  Brother  Frank, 
and  see  who  all 's  there,  while  I  talk  with  this 
young  man  I  have  n't  seen  for  a  year." 

Lois  Denning  had  been  Jack's  favorite  cousin 
since  he  was  old  enough  to  fasten  his  baby  fin- 
gers in  her  long,  brown  hair.  In  her  yearly 
visits  to  her  sister  she  had  devoted  so  much  of 
her  time  to  him,  and  been  such  a  willing  slave, 


180  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

that  lie  looked  forward  to  her  coining  even  a 
shade  more  eagerly  than  he  watched  for  Christ- 
mas. 

There  was  one  thing  that  remained  longest 
in  the  memory  of  every  guest  who  had  ever  en- 
joyed the  hospitality  of  the  Marion  home.  It 
was  the  warm  welcome  that  made  itself  contin- 
ually felt.  It  met  them  even  in  the  free  swing 
of  the  wide  front  door  that  seemed  to  say,  "Just 
walk  right  in  now,  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

There  was  an  atmosphere  of  genial  comfort 
and  cheer  that  cast  its  spell  on  all  who  strayed 
over  its  inviting  threshold.  It  made  them  long 
to  linger,  and  loath  to  leave. 

David  Herschel  was  quick  to  appreciate  the 
warm  cordiality  of  his  greeting.  He  had  not 
been  jn  the  house  five  minutes  until  he  felt  him- 
self on  the  familiar  footing  of  an  old  friend.  At 
first  he  wondered  at  the  strange  assortment  of 
guests,  and  thought  it  queer  he  had  been  asked 
to  meet  the  elderly  twins  and  their  old  friend, 
who  were  so  absorbed  in  each  other. 

Then  Mrs.  Marion  brought  in  her  sister,  Lois 
Denning — a  slim,  graceful  girl  in  a  white  duck 
suit,  with  a  red  carnation  in  the  lapel  of  the 
jaunty  jacket.  She  was  a  lively,  outspoken  girl, 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  181 

decided  in  her  opinions,  and  original  in  her 
remarks. 

''That  red  carnation  just  suits  her,"  said 
David  to  himself,  as  they  talked  together.  "She 
is  so  bright  and  spicy." 

"Isn't  it  time  for  dinner,  Ray?"  asked  Mr. 
Marion,  anxiously.  "It 's  getting  dark,  and  I  'm 
as  hungry  as  a  schoolboy." 

"Yes,  and  your  guests  will  think  you  are  as 
impatient  as  one,"  she  answered,  laughingly. 
"We  must  wait  a  few  minutes  longer.  Mr. 
Cragmore  has  n't  come  yet." 

"Cragmore!"  cried  Mr.  Marion,  starting  to 
his  feet. 

"O  dear,"  exclaimed  his  wife,  "I  did  n't  in- 
tend to  tell  you  he  was  coming.  I  knew  you 
had  n't  seen  the  report  from  Conference  yet,  and 
I  wanted  to  surprise  you.  He  has  been  sent  to 
the  Clark  Street  Church.  I  met  him  coming 
up  from  the  depot  this  morning,  and  asked  him 
to  dine  with  us  to-night." 

"!Now  I  do  wish  I  were  a  school-boy!"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Marion,  "so  that  I  might  give  vent 
to  my  delight  as  I  used  to." 

"I  remember  how  loud  you  could  whoop 
when  you  were  two  feet  six,"  remarked  Mrs. 


182  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Dameron.  "I  should  not  care  to  risk  hearing 
you,  now  that  you  are  six  feet  two." 

There  was  a  quick  ring  at  the  front  door, 
and  the  next  instant  Frank  Marion  and  George 
Cragmore  were  shaking  hands  as  though  they 
could  never  stop. 

"I  'm  going  to  see  if  they  fall  on  each  other's 
necks  and  weep  a  la  Joseph  and  his  brethren," 
said  Lois,  tiptoeing  towards  the  hall.  "I  've 
heard  so  much  about  George  Cragmore,  that  I 
feel  that  I  am  about  to  be  presented  to  a  whole 
circus — menagerie  and  all." 

"And  how  are  ye,  Mistress  Marion?"  they 
heard  his  musical  voice  say. 

"Will  ye  moind  that  now,"  commented  Lois 
in  an  undertone.  "How  's  that  for  a  touch  of 
the  rale  auld  brogue?" 

He  was  introduced  to  the  old  ladies  first, 
then  to  the  saucy  Lois  and  Jack.  Then  he 
caught  sight  of  Herschel.  They  met  with  mu- 
tual pleasure,  and  were  about  cordially  to  renew 
their  acquaintance,  begun  that  day  on  the  car, 
when  Cragmore  glanced  across  the  room  and  saw 
Bethany. 

Both  Lois  and  David  noticed  the  way  his 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  183 

face  lighted  up,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  he 
went  forward  to  speak  to  her. 

That  evening  was  the  beginning  of  several 
things.  The  Hebrew  class  was  organized.  Mr. 
Marion  had  found  only  two  of  his  teachers  will- 
ing to  undertake  the  work,  but  Lois  cheerfully 
allowed  herself  to  be  substituted  for  the  third 
one  he  had  been  so  sure  would  join  them. 

"I  '11  not  be  here  more  than  long  enough  to 
get  a  good  start,"  she  said,  "but  I  'm  in  for  any- 
thing that 's  going — Hebrew  or  Hopscotch, 
whichever  it  happens  to  be." 

The  twins  declined  to  take  any  part.  "I 
know  it  is  beyond  us,"  sighed  Miss  Harriet. 
"The  Latin  conjugations  were  always  such  a 
terror  to  me,  and  sister  never  did  get  her  bear- 
ings in  the  German  genders." 

When  it  came  time  for  the  merry  party  to 
break  up,  Frank  Marion  would  not  listen  to  any 
good-nights  from  Cragmore. 

"You  're  not  going  away.  That 's  the  end 
of  it,"  he  declared.  "I  '11  walk  down  with  you 
to  the  hotel,  and  have  your  trunk  sent  up. 
You  're  to  stay  here  until  you  get  a  boarding 
place  to  suit  you.  I  would  n't  let  you  go  then, 


184  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

if  I  did  not  know  it  was  essential  for  you  to  live 
nearer  your  congregation." 

Mr.  Marion  walked  on  ahead,  pushing  Jack's 
chair,  with  Miss  Caroline  on  one  side,  and  Miss 
Harriet  o'n  the  other. 

Bethany  followed  with  George  Cragmore. 
There  was  a  brilliant  moonlight,  and  they 
walked  slowly,  enjoying  to  the  utmost  the  rare 
beauty  of  the  night. 

"Come  in  a  moment,  George,"  called  Mr. 
Marion,  as  he  wheeled  Jack  up  the  steps.  "I 
want  to  finish  spinning  this  yarn." 

They  all  went  into  the  hall. 

Bethany  opened  the  door  into  the  library 
and  struck  a  match.  Cragmore  took  it  from  her 
and  lighted'  the  gas. 

But  Mr.  Marion  still  stood  in  the  hall  with 
his  attentive  audience  of  three. 

"I  '11  be  through  in  a  moment,"  he  called. 
The  sisters  dropped  down  in  a  large  double 
rocker. 

"You  might  as  well  sit  down,  too,  Mr.  Crag- 
more,"  said  Bethany.  "His  minute  may  prove 
to  be  elastic." 

Cragmore  looked  around  the  homelike  old 
room,  and  then  down  at  the  fair-haired  woman 


THE  DEACONESS'S  STORY.  185 

at  his  side.  "Not  to-night,  thank  you,"  he  re- 
sponded; "but  I  should  like  to  come  some  other 
time.  Yes,  I  think  I  should  like  to  come  here 
very  often,  Miss  Hallam." 

The  admiration  in  his  eyes,  and  the  tone, 
made  the  remark  so  very  personal  that  Bethany 
was  slightly  annoyed. 

"O,  our  latch-string  is  always  out  to  the 
clergy,"  she  said  lightly,  and  then  led  the  way 
back  to  the  hall  to  join  the  others. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"YOM    KIPPUR." 

HE  morning  after  the  first  meeting 
of  the  Hebrew  class  at  Rabbi  Bar- 
thold's,  Frank  Marion  came  into  the 
office. 

"Herschel,"  he  said,  "when  do  you  have 
your  Day  of  Atonement  services?  Is  it  this  week 
or  next?  Rabbi  Barthold  invited  us  to  attend, 
but  I  am  not  sure  about  the  date.  He  is  going 
to  preach  a  series  of  sermons  that  are  to  set  forth 
the  views  now  held  by  the  Reform  school,  and 
Cragmore  and  I  are  anxious  to  hear  them." 

"It  is  the  week  after  this,"  said  David,  con- 
sulting the  calendar. 

"Then  I  can  arrange  to  get  in  from  my  trip 
in  time  for  the  Friday  night  service." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Rabbi  Barthold?" 
asked  David.  "Is  n't  he  a  magnificent  old 
fellow?" 

Marion  stroked  his  mustache  thoughtfully. 
186 


YOM  KIPPUR.  187 

"Well,"  he  said  after  some  deliberation,  "I 
hardly  know  where  to  place  him.  He  does  n't 
belong  to  this  age.  If  I  believed  in  the  trans- 
migration of  souls,  I  should  say  that  some  old 
Levite,  whose  life-work  had  been  to  keep  the 
Temple  lamps  perpetually  burning,  had  strayed 
back  to  earth  again. 

"That  seems  to  be  his  mission  now.  He  is 
trying  to  rekindle  the  pride  and  zeal  and  hope 
of  an  ancient  day.  Excuse  me  for  saying  it, 
Herschel,  but  there  are  few  in  his  congregation 
who  understand  him.  Their  vision  is  so  ob- 
scured by  this  dense  fog  of  modern  indifference 
that  they  fail  to  appreciate  his  aims.  They  are 
still  in  the  outer  courts,  among  the  tables  of  the 
money-changers,  and  those  who  sell  doves. 
They  have  never  entered  the  inner  sanctuary 
of  a  spiritual  life.  Their  religion  stops  with  the 
altar  and  the  censer — the  material  things.  Un- 
derstand me,"  he  said  hastily,  as  David  inter- 
rupted him,  "I  know  there  are  a  number  you 
have  in  mind,  who  are  loyally  true  to  the  spirit 
of  Judaism,  but  they  are  few  and  far  between. 
I  am  not  speaking  of  them,  but  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  congregation.  I  believe  the  serv- 


188  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

ices  of  the  synagogue,  and  their  religion  itself, 
is  only  a  form  observed  from  a  cold  sense  of 
duty,  merely  to  avert  the  evil  decree." 

David  drew  himself  up  rather  stiffly. 

"And  you  are  the  disciple  of  the  man  who 
said,  'Let  him  that  is  without  sin  among  you 
cast  the  first  stone!'  What  do  you  suppose  the 
Jew  has  to  say  about  the  dead-heads  in  your 
Churches?  What  proportion  of  your  member- 
ship has  passed  beyond  the  tables  of  the  money- 
changers? How  many  in  your  pews,  who  mum- 
ble the  creed  and  wear  the  label  'Christian,'  will 
be  able  at  the  passages  of  God's  Jordan  to  meet 
the  challenge  of  his  Shibboleth?" 

Marion  laid  his  hand  on  David's  shoulder. 
"You  misunderstand  me,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "I 
have  no  harsher  denunciation  for  the  indifferent 
Jew  than  for  the  indifferent  Christian.  God 
pity  them  both!  I  was  simply  drawing  a  con- 
trast between  Rabbi  Barthold  and  his  people, 
as  it  appears  to  me — a  shepherd  who  longs  to 
lead  his  flock  up  to  the  source  of  all  living  water; 
but  they  prefer  to  dispense  with  climbing  the 
spiritual  heights,  jostle  each  other  for  the  richest 
herbage  of  the  lowlands,  and  are  satisfied.  You 
know  that  is  so,  David." 


YOM  KIPPUR.  189 

"Yes,"  admitted  David,  with  a  sigh.  "He 
can  not  even  arouse  them  to  the  necessity  of 
teaching  their  children  Hebrew,  if  they  would 
perpetuate  loyalty  to  its  traditions." 

David  was  about  to  repeat  what  the  Rabbi 
had  said  the  night  he  consented  to  take  the 
Hebrew  class,  but  his  pride  checked  him: 
"What  are  we  coming  to,  my  son?  Protestant- 
ism is  having  a  wonderful  awakening  in  regard 
to  the  study  of  the  Bible.  Never  has  there  been 
such  a  widespread  interest  in  it  as  now.  But 
among  our  people,  how  many  of  the  younger 
generation  make  it  a  text-book  of  daily  study? 
Such  negligence  will  surely  write  its  'Ichabod' 
upon  the  future  of  our  beloved  Israel." 

"What  a  discussion  we  have  drifted  into!" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Marion.  "I  had  only  intended 
dropping  in  here  to  ask  you  a  simple  question. 
Come  to  think,  T  believe  I  have  not  answered 
yours.  You  asked  me  my  opinion  of  Rabbi 
Barthold.  Well,  I  think  he  is  a  sincere,  noble 
soul,  a  true  seeker  of  the  truth,  and  a  man  whose 
friendship  I  would  value  very  highly." 

Herschel  looked  much  pleased. 

"I  hope  you  may  be  able  to  hear  him  on 
'Yom  Kippur,'  "  he  said. 


190  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  shall  certainly  try  to  be  there,"  Marion 
answered. 

As  his  footsteps  died  away  in  the  hall,  David 
said  to  himself:  "If  every  Gentile  were  like  that 
man,  and  every  Jew  like  Uncle  Ezra,  what  an 
ideal  state  of  society  there  would  be!  But  then," 
he  added  as  an  after-thought,  "what  would  be- 
come of  the  lawyers?  We  would  starve." 

In  the  waning  light  of  the  afternoon,  that 
Day  of  the  Atonement,  there  was  no  more  de- 
vout worshiper  in  all  the  temple  than  George 
Cragmore.  He  had  just  finished  reading  a  book 
of  M.  Leroy  Beaulieu's,  "Israel  Among  the 
Nations,"  and  as  he  turned  the  leaves  of  the 
prayer-book  some  one  handed  him,  he  was  im- 
pressed with  the  truth  of  this  sentence  which 
recurred  to  him: 

"The  Hebrew  genius  was  confined  to  a  nar- 
row bed  between  two  rocky  walls,  whence  only 
the  sky  could  be  seen;  but  it  channeled  there  a 
well  so  deep  that  the  ages  have  not  dried  it  up, 
and  the  nations  of  the  four  corners  of  the  earth 
have  come  to  slake  their  thirst  at  its  waters." 

It  seemed  to  him    that  all  that  was  purest, 


YOM  KIPPUR.  191 

most  heart-searching  and  sublime  in  the  Old 
Covenant;  all  that  time  has  proven  most  pre- 
cious and  comforting  of  its  promises;  all  therein 
that  best  satisfies  the  human  yearnings  toward 
the  Infinite,  and  gives  wings  to  the  God-instinct 
in  man,  might  be-found  somewhere  in  the  ex- 
quisite mosaic  of  this  day's  ritual. 

Marion,  concentrating  his  attention  chiefly 
on  the  sermons,  admired  their  scholarly  style, 
and  indorsed  most  of  their  substance,  but  he 
came  away  with  a  feeling  of  sadness. 

It  seemed  so  pitiful  to  him  to  see  these  peo- 
ple with  their  backs  turned  on  the  sacrifice  a 
divine  love  had  already  provided,  trying  to  make 
their  own  empty-handed  atonement,  simply  by 
their  penitent  pleadings  and  good  deeds. 

Herschel's  devotions  were  interfered  with 
by  a  spirit  of  criticism  heretofore  unknown  to 
him.  His  thoughts  were  so  full  of  doubts  that 
had  been  having  an  almost  imperceptible 
growth  that  he  could  not  enter  into  the  service 
with  his  usual  abandon.  He  was  continually 
contrasting  those  around  him  with  that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  gathering  on  Lookout,  and  the  con- 
gregation in  the  tent. 


192  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

What  made  them  to  differ?  He  could  not 
tell,  but  he  felt  that  something  was  lacking  here 
that  had  made  the  other  such  a  force. 

Cragmore  had  not  been  able  to  attend  the 
Friday  night  service,  nor  the  one  on  the  follow- 
ing morning.  He  came  in  just  after  the  noon 
recess,  and  was  ushered  to  a  pew  near  the  center 
of  the  room,  where  he  immediately  became  ab- 
sorbed in  the  ritual.  He  followed  devoutly 
through  the  meditations  and  the  silent  devotions, 
and  when  they  came  to  the  responsive  readings, 
his  voice  joined  in  as  earnestly  as  any  son  of 
Abraham  there. 

The  synagogue,  with  its  modern  trappings 
and  fashionably-dressed  congregation,  seemed  to 
disappear.  He  saw  the  old  Temple  take  its  place, 
with  its  solemn  ceremonials  of  scapegoat  and 
burnt-offering.  Through  the  chanting  of  the 
choir  in  the  gallery  back  of  him  he  heard  the 
thousand-voiced  song  of  the  Levites.  He  seemed 
to  see  the  clouds  of  incense,  and  the  smoke  aris- 
ing from  the  high  brazen  altar.  He  bowed  his 
head  on  the  seat  in  front  of  him.  His  whole 
soul  seemed  to  go  out  in  reverent  adoration  to 
this  great  Jehovah,  worshiped  by  both  Hebrew 
and  Christian. 


YOM  KIPPUR.  193 

The  memorial  service  to  the  dead  followed 
the  sermon. 

Cragmore's  music-loving  nature  responded 
like  a  quivering  harp-string  as  the  choir  began 
a  minor  chant: 

" Oh  what  is  man,  the  child  of  dust? 
What  is  mail,  O  Lord  ?" 

The  low,  moaning  tones  of  the  great  organ 
rose  and  fell  like  the  beat  of  a  far-off  tide,  as  all 
heads  bowed  in  silent  devotion,  recalling  in  that 
moment  the  lives  that  had  passed  out  into  the 
great  beyond. 

Cragmore  whispered  a  fervent  prayer  of 
thankfulness  for  the  unbroken  family  circle 
across  the  wide  Atlantic. 

As  he  did  so,  a  breath  of  blossoming  haw- 
thorn hedges,  a  faint  chiming  of  the  Shandon 
bells,  and  the  blue  mists  of  the  Kerry  hills 
seemed  to  mingle  a  moment  with  his  prayer. 

The  sun  had  set,  when  in  the  concluding 
service  his  eyes  fell  on  the  words  the  Rabbi  was 
reading — The  Mission  of  Israel — "It 's  a  pity," 
he  thought,  "that  every  mentally  cross-eyed 
Christian,  who,  between  ignorance  and  bigotry, 
can  get  only  a  distorted  impression  of  the  Jews, 
13 


194  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

could  n't  have  heard  this  service  to-day,  espe- 
cially that  prayer  for  all  mankind,  and  this  one 
he  is  reading  now: 

"  'This  twilight  hour  reminds  us  also  of  the 
eventide,  when,  according  to  Thy  gracious 
promise,  Thy  light  will  arise  over  all  the  children 
of  men,  and  Israel's  spiritual  descendants  will 
be  as  numerous  as  the  stars  in  the  heaven.  En- 
dow us,  our  Guardian,  with  strength  and  pa- 
tience for  our  holy  mission.  Grant  that  all  the 
children  of  Thy  people  may  recognize  the  goal 
of  our  changeful  career,  so  that  they  may  ex- 
emplify, by  their  zeal  and  love  for  mankind,  the 
truth  of  Israel's  watchword:  One  humanity  on 
earth,  even  as  there  is  but  one  God  in  heaven. 
Enlighten  all  that  call  themselves  by  Thy  name 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  sanctuary  of  wood 
and  stone,  that  erst  crowned  Zion's  hill,  was  but 
a  gate,  through  which  Israel  should  step  out  into 
the  world,  to  reconcile  all  mankind  unto  Thee! 
Thou  alone  knowest  when  this  work  of  atone- 
ment shall  be  completed;  when  the  day  shall 
dawn  in  which  the  light  of  Thy  truth,  brighter 
than  that  of  the  visible  sun,  shall  encircle  the 
whole  earth.  But  surely  that  great  day  of 
universal  reconciliation,  so  fervently  prayed  for, 


YOM  KIPPUR.  195 

shall  come,  as  surely  as  none  of  Thy  words  re- 
turn empty,  unless  they  have  done  that  for 
which  Thou  didst  send  them.  Then  joy  shall 
thrill  all  hearts,  and  from  one  end  of  the  earth 
to  the  other  shall  echo  the  gladsome  cry:  Hear, 
O  Israel,  hear  all  mankind,  the  Eternal  our  God, 
the  Eternal  is  One.  Then  myriads  will  make 
pilgrimage  to  Thy  house,  which  shall  be  called 
a  house  of  prayer  for  all  nations,  and  from  their 
lips  shall  sound  in  spiritual  joy:  Lord,  open  for 
us  the  gates  of  thy  truth.  Lift  up  your  heads, 
O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye  everlasting 
doors,  for  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in.' ' 

And  the  choir  chanting,  replied: 

"Who  is  the  King  of  glory?  The  Lord  of 
hosts — He  is  the  King  of  glory." 

There  was  a  short  prayer,  then  a  benediction 
that  made  Cragmore  and  Marion  look  across  the 
congregation  at  each  other  and  smile.  It  was 
the  Epworth  benediction,  with  which  the  League 
was  always  dismissed : 

"May  the  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee. 
May  the  Lord  let  his  countenance  shine  upon 
thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee!  The  Lord  lift 
up  his  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee 
peace." 


196  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  two  men  met  each  other  at  the  door, 
and  walked  homeward  together  through  the 
twilight. 

Cragmore  had  found  a  boarding  place.  It 
was  not  far  from  the  temple. 

"Come  up  to  my  room,"  he  said  to  Marion. 
"I  see  you  still  have  Herschel's  prayer-book  with 
you.  I  want  to  compare  the  mission  of  Israel 
as  given  there  with  the  one  I  was  reading  to-day 
of  Leroy-Beaulieu's.  I  have  never  known  before 
to-day  what  special  hope  they  clung  to.  Come 
in  and  I  will  find  the  paragraph." 

He  lighted  the  gas  in  his  room,  pushed  a 
chair  over  towards  his  guest,  and,  seating  him- 
self, began  rapidly  turning  the  leaves  of  the 
book. 

"Here  it  is,"  he  said,  and  he  read  as  follows: 

"Then  at  last  Jewish  faith,  freed  from  all 
tribal  spirit  and  purified  of  all  national  dross, 
will  become  the  law  of  humanity.  The  world 
that  jeered  at  the  long  suffering  of  Israel,  will 
witness  the  fulfillment  of  prophecies  delayed  for 
twenty  centuries  by  the  blindness  of  the  scribes, 
and  the  stubbornness  of  the  rabbis.  According 
to  the  words  of  the  prophets,  the  nations  will 
come  to  learn  of  Israel,  and  the  people  will  hang 


YOM  KIPPUR.  197 

to  the  skirts  of  her  garments,  crying,  'Let  us  go 
up  together  to  the  mountain  of  Jehovah,  to  the 
house  of  the  Lord  of  Israel,  that  he  may  teach 
us  to  walk  in  his  ways.'  The  true  spiritual  re- 
ligion, for  which  the  world  has  been  sighing 
since  Luther  and  Voltaire,  will  be  imparted  to 
it  through  Israel.  To  accomplish  this,  Israel 
needs  but  to  discard  her  old  practices,  as  in 
spring  the  oak  shakes  off  the  dead  leaves  of 
winter.  The  divine  trust,  the  legacy  of  her 
prophets,  which  has  been  preserved  intact  be- 
neath her  heavy  ritual,  will  be  transmitted  to  the 
Gentiles  by  an  Israel  emancipated  from  all  en- 
slavement to  form.  Then  only,  after  having 
infused  the  spirit  of  the  Thora  into  the  souls  of 
all  men,  will  Israel,  her  mission  accomplished, 
be  able  to  merge  herself  in  the  nations." 

"See  what  a  hopeless  hope,"  said  Cragmore, 
as  he  closed  the  book.  "And  yet  do  you  know, 
Frank,  I  am  becoming  more  and  more  sure  that 
Israel  has  some  great  part  to  play  in  the  conver- 
sion of  humanity?  Any  one  must  see  that  noth- 
ing short  of  Divine  power  could  have  kept  them 
intact  as  a  race,  and  Divine  power  is  never  aim- 
lessly exerted.  There  must  be  some  great  reason 
for  such  a  miraculous  preservation.  AVhat  mis- 


198  IN    lyEAGUE    WITH 


sionari'es  of  the  cross  these  people  would  make! 
What  torch-bearers  they  have  been  !  They  have 
carried  the  altar-fires  of  Jehovah  to  every  alien 
shore  they  have  touched." 

Cragmore  stood  up  in  his  earnestness,  his 
eyes  alight  with  something  akin  to  prophetic 
fire. 

"The  old  thorny  stem  of  Judaism  shall  yet 
bud  and  blossom  into  the  perfect  flower  of 
Christianity!"  he  cried.  "And  when  it  does,  O 
when  it  does,  the  'chosen  people'  will  become 
a  veritable  tree  of  life,  whose  leaves  will  be  'for 
the  healing  of  the  nations.'  ' 


CHAPTER  XII. 
DR.  TRENT. 

* 

T  was  a  cold,  bleak  night  in  Novem- 
ber. There  was  a  blazing  wood-fire 
on  the  library  hearth.  Bethany  sat 
in  a  low  chair  in  front  of  it,  with  a 
large,  flat  book  in  her  lap,  which  she  was  using 
as  a  desk  for  her  long-neglected  letter-writing. 
An  appetizing  smell  of  pop-corn  and  boiling 
molasses  found  its  way  in  from  the  cozy  kitchen, 
where  the  sisters  were  treating  Jack  to  an  old- 
fashioned  candy-pulling.  The  occasional  gusts 
that  rattled  the  windows  made  Bethany  draw 
closer  to  the  fire,  with  a  grateful  sense  of  warmth 
and  comfort.  She  thoroughly  appreciated  her 
luxurious  surroundings,  and  was  glad  she  had 
the  long,  quiet  evening  ahead  of  her. 

For  half  an  hour  the  steady  trail  of  her  pen 
along  the  paper,  and  the  singing  of  the  kettle 
on  the  crane,  was  all  that  was  audible. 

Then  Jack  came  wheeling  himself  in,  with 
a  radiant,  sticky  face,  and  a  plate  of  candy. 

199 


200  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"O,  we  're  having  such  lots  of  fun !"  he  cried. 
"We  're  going  to  make  some  chocolate  creams 
now.  Do  come  and  help,  sister?" 

She  pointed  to  the  pile  of  unanswered  letters 
on  the  table.  "I  must  get  these  out  of  the  way 
first,"  she  said.  "Then  I  '11  join  you." 

"I  guess  you  can  eat  and  write  at  the  same 
time,"  he  answered,  holding  out  the  plate. 

He  waited  only  long  enough  for  her  to  taste 
his  wares,  and  hurried  back  to  the  kitchen  to 
report  her  opinion  of  their  skill  as  confectioners. 

Just  as  the  dining-room  door  banged  behind 
him,  she  thought  she  heard  some  one  coming  up 
on  the  front  porch  with  slow,  uncertain  steps. 
She  paused  in  the  act  of  dipping  her  pen  into  the 
ink,  and  listened.  Some  one  certainly  tried  the 
bell,  but  it  did  not  ring.  Then  the  outside  door 
opened  and  shut.  She  started  up  slightly 
alarmed,  and  half  way  across  the  room  stopped 
again  to  listen.  There  was  a  momentary  rust- 
ling in  the  hall.  She  heard  something  drop  on 
the  hat-rack.  Then  there  was  a  low  knock  at 
the  library  door.  She  opened  it  a  little  way,  and 
saw  Dr.  Trent  standing  there. 

"O,  Uncle  Doctor!"  she  cried,  throwing  the 


DR.  TRENT.  201 

door  wide  open.  "I  never  once  thought  of  its 
being  you.  I  took  you  for  a  burglar." 

Then  she  stopped,  seeing  the  worn,  haggard 
look  on  his  face.  He  seemed  to  have  grown  ten 
years  older  since  the  last  time  she  had  seen  him. 
Without  noticing  her  proffered  hand,  he 
pushed  slowly  past  her,  and  stood  shivering  be- 
fore the  fire.  He  had  taken  off  his  overcoat  in 
the  hall.  He  was  bent  and  careworn,  as  if  some 
unusual  weight  had  been  laid  upon  his  patient 
shoulders,  already  bowed  to  the  limit  of  their 
strength. 

Bethany  knew  from  his  firmly  set  lips  and 
stern  face  that  he  was  in  sore  need  of  comfort. 

"What  is  it,  Uncle  Doctor?"  she  asked,  fol- 
lowing him  to  the  fire,  and  laying  her  hand 
lightly  on  his  trembling  arm.  She  felt  that 
something  dreadful  must  have  happened  to  un- 
nerve him  so.  "What  can  I  do  for  you?"  she 
asked  with  a  tremble  of  distress  in  her  voice. 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  When  he  raised  his  head  his 
eyes  were  blurred,  and  he  had  that  helpless, 
childish  look  that  comes  with  premature  age. 

"I  have  been  with  Isabel  all  day,"  he  said, 
huskily. 


202  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Although  Bethany  had  never  heard  Mrs. 
Trent's  given  name  before,  she  knew  that  he 
was  speaking  of  his  wife. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  which  she  finally 
broke  by  saying,  "Do  n't  you  see  her  every  day  ? 
I  thought  you  were  in  the  habit  of  going  out  to 
her  that  often." 

"O,  I  have  gone  there,"  he  answered  wearily, 
"day  after  day,  and  day  after  day,  all  these  long 
years;  but  I  have  never  seen  Isabel.  It  has  only 
been  a  poor,  mad  creature,  who  never  recognized 
me.  She  was  always  calling  for  me.  The  way 
she  used  to  rave,  and  pray  to  be  sent  back  to  her 
husband,  would  have  touched  a  heart  of  flint; 
yet  she  never  knew  me  when  I  came.  She  would 
grow  quiet  when  I  put  my  arm  around  her,  but 
she  would  sit  and  stare  at  me  in  a  dumb,  con- 
fused way  that  was  pitiful.  I  always  hoped  that 
some  day  she  might  recognize  me.  I  would  sing 
her  old  songs  to  her,  and  talk  about  our  old 
home,  although  the  thought  of  its  shattered 
happiness  broke  my  heart.  I  tried  in  every  way 
to  bring  her  to  herself.  She  would  listen  awhile, 
and  look  up  at  me  with  a  recognition  almost 
dawning  in  her  eyes.  Then  the  tears  would 
begin  to  roll  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  would  beg 


DR.  TRENT.  203 

me  to  go  and  find  her  husband.  Yesterday  she 
knew  me!"  His  voice  broke.  "She  came  back 
to  me  for  the  first  time  in  eight  years, — my  own 
little  Isabel!  I  knew  it  was  only  because  the 
frail  body  was  worn  out  with  its  terrible  strug- 
gle, and  I  could  not  keep  her  long.  O,  such  a 
day  as  this  has  been!  I  have  held  her  in  my 
arms  every  moment,  with  her  poor,  tired  head 
against  my  heart.  She  was  so  glad  and  happy 
to  find  herself  with  me  at  last,  but  the  happiness 
was  over  so  soon." 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  as  before, 
with  a  groan.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in 
a  dull,  mechanical  way. 

"She  died  at  sundown!" 

The  tears  were  running  down  Bethany's  face. 
She  had  been  standing  behind  his  chair.  Now 
she  bent  over  him,  lightly  passing  her  hand  over 
his  gray  hair,  with  a  comforting  caress. 

"If  I  could  only  do  something,"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  voice  tremulous  with  sympathy. 

"You  can,"  he  answered.  "That  is  why  I 
came.  None  of  her  relatives  are  living.  Only 
my  most  intimate  friends  know  that  she  did  not 
die  eight  years  ago,  when  she  was  taken  away 
to  a  sanitarium.  I  want — "  he  stopped  with  a 


204  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

choking  in  his  throat.  "The  attendants  have 
been  very  kind,  but  I  want  some  woman  of  her 
own  station — some  woman  who  would  have  been 
her  friend — to  put  flowers  about  her — and-- 
smooth  her  hair,  as  she  would  have  wanted  it 
done — and — and — see  that  everything  is  all 
fine  and  beautiful  when  she  is  dressed  for  her  last 
sleep." 

He  tried  to  keep  his  voice  steady  as  he  talked ; 
but  his  face  was  working  pitifully,  and  the  tears 
were  rolling  down  his  face. 

"She  would  have  wished  it  so.  She  knew 
Richard  Hallam.  He  was  my  best  friend.  I 
do  not  know  any  one  I  could  ask  to  do  this 
for  my  little  Isabel,  but  Richard  Hallam's 
daughter." 

She  leaned  over  and  touched  his  forehead 
with  her  lips. 

"Then  let  her  have  a  daughter's  place  in 
helping  you  bear  this,"  she  said.  "Let  her  serve 
her  father's  dear,  old  friend  as  she  would  have 
served  that  father." 

He  reached  up  and  mutely  took  her  hand, 
resting  his  face  against  it  a  moment,  as  if  the 
touch  of  its  sympathy  strengthened  him.  Then 


DR.  TRENT.  205 

he  rose,  saying,  "I  shall  send  for  you  in  the 
morning." 

"O,  are  you  going  home  so  soon?"  she  ex- 
claimed. "You  have  hardly  been  here  long 
enough  to  get  thoroughly  warm." 

"No,  not  hoihe,  but  back  to  Isabel.  It  will 
be  only  a  few  hours  longer  that  I  can  sit  beside 
her.  I  have  staid  away  now  longer  than  I 
intended,  but  I  had  to  come  in  town  to  see  that 
Lee  was  all  right." 

"O,  does  he  know?"  asked  Bethany. 

"No,  he  was  only  two  years  old  when  they 
were  separated.  She  has  always  been  dead  to 
him.  Poor,  little  fellow!  Why  should  I  shadow 
his  life  with  such  a  grief?" 

Bethany  helped  him  on  with  his  overcoat, 
turned  up  the  collar,  and  buttoned  it  securely. 
Then  she  gave  him  his  gloves;  but  instead  of 
putting  them  on,  he  stood  snapping  the  clasps 
in  an  absent-minded  way. 

"I  suppose  Richard  told  you  about  that  debt 
I  have  been  wrestling  with  so  long,"  he  said, 
finally.  "I  got  that  all  paid  off  last  week,  the 
last  wretched  cent.  And  now  that  Isabel  is  gone, 
I  seem  to  have  lost  all  my  old  vigor  and  ambition. 


206  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

If  it  were  not  for  Lee,  it  would  be  so  good  to  stop, 
and  not  try  to  take  another  step.  I  should  like 
to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,  too." 

He  opened  the  door.  A  raw,  cold  wind, 
laden  with  snow,  rushed  in. 

Bethany  watched  him  out  of  sight,  then  went 
shivering  back  to  the  fire. 

A  deep  snowstorm  kept  Jack  at  home  next 
day,  so  no  one  questioned,  or  no  one  knew  why 
Bethany  was  excused  from  the  office  during  the 
morning. 

She  carried  out  Dr.  Trent's  wishes  faithfully. 
She  stood  beside  him  in  the  dreary  cemetery 
till  the  white  snow  was  laid  back  over  the  newly- 
made  mound.  Then  she  rode  silently  back  to 
town  with  him.  He  sat  with  his  hands  over  his 
eyes  all  the  way,  never  speaking  until  the  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  office,  and  the  driver  opened 
the  door  for  Bethany  to  alight. 

Next  day  she  saw  him  drive  past  on  his  usual 
round  of  professional  visits.  No  one  else  noticed 
any  difference  in  him,  except  that  he  seemed  a 
little  graver,  and,  if  possible,  more  tender  and 
thoughtful  in  his  ministrations,  than  he  had  been 
before. 

To  Bethany  there  was  something  very  pa- 


DR.  TRENT.  207 

thetic  in  the  sudden  aging  of  this  man,  who  had 
borne  his  burden  so  silently  and  bravely  that 
few  had  ever  suspected  he  had  one. 

He  was  making  a  stern  effort  to  keep  on  in 
the  same  old  way.  His  profession  had  brought 
him  in  contact  with  so  much  of  the  world's  sor- 
row and  suffering  that  he  would  not  lay  even  the 
shadow  of  his  burden  on  other  lives,  if  he  could 
help  it. 

Only  Bethany  noticed  that  his  hair  was  fast 
growing  white,  that  he  stooped  more,  and  that 
he  climbed  slowly  and  heavily  into  the  buggy, 
instead  of  springing  in  as  he  used  to,  with  a 
quick,  elastic  step.  She  ministered  to  his  com- 
fort in  all  the  little  ways  in  her  power,  but  it  was 
not  much  that  any  one  could  do. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  two  weeks  before 
he  came  again  to  the  house.  This  time  it  was 
to  examine  Jack. 

"What  would  you  say,  my  son,"  he  asked, 
"if  I  should  tell  you  I  do  not  want  you  to  go  to 
the  office  any  more  after  this  week?" 

Jack's  face  was  a  study.  The  tears  came  to 
his  eyes.  "Why?"  he  asked. 

"Because  you  will  be  strong  enough  then  to 
go  through  a  certain  exercise  I  want  you  to  take 


208  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

many  times  during  the  day.  If  you  keep  it  up 
faithfully,  I  believe  you  will  be  walking  by 
Christmas." 

This  was  so  much  sooner  than  either  Jack  or 
Bethany  had  dared  hope,  that  they  hardly  knew 
how  to  express  their  joy.  Jack  gave  a  loud 
whoop,  and  went  wheeling  out  of  the  room  at 
the  top  of  his  speed  to  tell  Miss  Caroline  and 
Miss  Harriet. 

Dr.  Trent  looked  after  him  with  a  fatherly 
tenderness  in  his  face.  Then  he  sighed  and 
turned  to  Bethany.  "I  have  another  trouble 
to  bring  to  you,  my  dear.  Lee  has  been  getting 
into  so  much  mischief  lately.  I  never  knew  till 
yesterday  that  he  has  not  been  attending  school 
regularly  this  term.  You  see  every  allowance 
ought  to  be  made  for  the  child — no  home  but  a 
boarding-house;  no  one  to  take  an  oversight — 
for  I  am  called  out  night  and  day.  He  is  such 
a  bright  boy,  so  full  of  life  and  spirit.  I  am  sat- 
isfied that  his  teachers  do  not  understand  him. 
They  have  not  been  fair  with  him.  He  has  been 
transferred  from  one  ward  to  another,  and  finally 
expelled.  He  never  told  me  until  last  night. 
He  said  he  knew  it  would  grieve  me,  and  that  he 
put  it  off  from  day  to  day,  because  he  did  not 


DR.  TRENT.  209 

want  to  trouble  me  when  I  was  so  worried  over 
several  critical  cases.  That  -showed  a  sweet 
spirit,  Bethany.  I  appreciated  it.  He  has  always 
been  such  an  affectionate  little  chap.  I  wanted 
to  go  and  interview  the  superintendent;  but  he 
insisted  it  would  do  no  good,  because  they  are 
all  prejudiced  against  him.  I  know  Lee  is  a 
good  child.  They  ought  not  to  expect  a  growing 
boy,  full  of  the  animal  spirits  the  Creator  has 
endowed  him  with,  to  always  work  like  a  prim 
little  machine.  Maybe  1  am  not  acting  wisely, 
but  he  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  work 
for  awhile,  instead  of  being  sent  to  any  other 
school,  that  I  gave  my  consent.  It  is  little  a  ten- 
year  old  boy  can  do,  but  he  has  a  taking  way 
with  him,  and  he  got  a  place  himself.  He  is  to 
be  elevator-boy  in  the  same  building  where  your 
office  is.  You  will  see  him  every  day,  and  I  am 
giving  you  the  true  state  of  affairs,  so  you  will 
not  misjudge  the  child.  I  hope  you  will  look 
out  a  little  for  him,  Bethany." 

"You  may  be  sure  I  shall  do  that,"  she  prom- 
ised. "We  are  already  great  friends.  He  used 
to  often  join  us  on  his  way  to  school,  and  wheel 
Jack  part  of  the  distance." 

Jack  made  as  much  as  possible  of  the  remain- 
14 


210  IN  LEAGUE;  WITH  ISRAEL. 

ing  time  that  lie  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  office. 
He  studied  no  lessons  but  the  short  Hebrew 
exercises  David  still  gave  him.  He  called  at  all 
the  different  offices  where  he  had  made  friends, 
and  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  hall,  talk- 
ing to  Lee,  who  was  soon  installed  in  the  build- 
ing as  elevator-boy. 

"My!  but  Lee  has  been  fooling  his  father," 
exclaimed  Jack  to  Bethany  after  his  first  inter- 
view. "Dr.  Trent  thinks  he  is  such  a  little  angel, 
but  you  ought  to  hear  the  things  he  brags  about 
doing.  He  's  tough,  I  can  tell  you.  He  smokes 
cigarettes,  and  swears  like  a  trooper.  He  showed 
me  an  old  horse-pistol  he  won  at  a  game  of  'seven 
up/  He  shoots  'craps,'  too.  He  has  been  play- 
ing hooky  half  his  time.  One  of  the  hostlers 
at  the  livery-stable,  where  his  father  keeps  his 
horse, used  to  write  his  excuses  for  him.  Lee  paid 
him  for  it  with  tobacco  he  stole  out  of  one  of  the 
warehouses  down  by  the  river.  You  just  ought 
to  see  the  book  he  carries  around  in  his  pocket 
to  read  when  he  is  n't  busy.  It 's  called  'The 
Pirate's  Revenge;  or,  A  Murderer's  Romance.' 
There  is  the  awfulest  pictures  in  it  of  people 
being  stabbed,  and  women  cutting  their  throats. 
I  told  him  he  showed  mighty  poor  taste  in  the 


DR.  TRENT.  211 

stuff  he  read;  and  asked  him  how  he  would  like 
to  be  found  dead  with  such  a  thing  in  his  pocket. 
He  told  me  to  shut  up  preaching,  and  said  the 
reason  he  has  gone  to  work  is  to  save  up  money 
so  's  he  could  go  to  Chicago  or  ISTew  York,  or 
some  big  place,  and  have  a  'howling  good  time.' ' 

It  made  Bethany  sick  at  heart  to  think  of  the 
deception  the  boy  had  practiced  on  his  father. 
Much  as  she  trusted  Jack,  she  could  not  bear  to 
encourage  any  intimacy  between  the  boys,  and 
was  glad  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  stay 
at  home  from  the  office.  But  in  every  way  she 
could  she  strengthened  her  friendship  with  Lee. 
She  brought  him  great,  rosy  apples,  and  pop-corn 
balls  that  Jack  had  made.  No  ten-year-old  boy 
could  be  proof  against  the  long  twists  of  home- 
made candy  she  frequently  slipped  into  his 
pocket.  Sometimes  when  the  Aveather  was  es- 
pecially stormy  and  bleak  outside,  she  stopped 
to  put  a  bunch  of  violets  or  a  little  red  rose  in 
his  button-hole.  She  was  so  pretty  and  graceful 
that  she  awakened  the  dormant  chivalry  within 
him,  and  he  would  not  for  worlds  have  had  her 
suspect  that  he  was  not  all  his  father  believed 
him  to  be. 

One  day  she  told  David  enough  of  his  his- 


212  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

tory  to  enlist  his  sympathy.  After  that  the 
young  lawyer  began  to  take  considerable  notice 
of  him,  and  finally  won  his  complete  friendship 
by  the  gift  of  a  little  brown  puppy,  that  he 
brought  down  one  morning  in  his  overcoat 
pocket. 

There  was  no  more  time  to  read  "The  Pirate's 
Revenge."  The  helpless,  sprawling  'little  pup 
demanded  all  his  attention.  He  kept  it  swung 
up  in  a  basket  in  the  elevator,  when  he  was  busy, 
but  spent  every  spare  moment  trying  to  develop 
its  limited  intelligence  by  teaching  it  tricks. 
That  was  one  occupation  of  which  he  never 
wearied,  and  in  which  he  never  lost  patience. 
From  the  moment  he  took  the  soft,  warm,  little 
thing  in  his  arms,  he  loved  it  dearly. 

"I  shall  call  him  Taffy,"  he  said,  hugging  it 
up  to  him,  "because  he  's  so  sweet  and  brown." 

Bethany  had  intended  for  Dr.  Trent  and  Lee 
to  dine  with  them  on  Thanksgiving  day,  but  the 
sisters  were  invited  to  Mrs.  Dameron's,  and  Mrs. 
Marion  was  so  urgent  for  her  and  Jack  to  spend 
the  day  with  them,  that  she  reluctantly  gave  up 
her  plan. 

"I  shall  certainly  have  them  Christmas,"  she 


DR.  TRENT.  213 

promised  herself,  "and  a  big  tree  for  Lee  and 
Jack.  Lois  will  help  me  with  it." 

It  was  a  genuine  Thanksgiving-day,  with 
gray  skies,  and  snow,  to  intensify  the  indoor 
cheer. 

"Did  n't  the  altar  look  beautiful  this  morn- 
ing with  its  decorations  of  fruit  and  vegetables, 
and  those  sheaves  of  wheat?"  remarked  Miss 
Harriet.  She  had  just  come  home  from  Mrs. 
Dameron's,  and  was  holding  her  big  mink  muff 
in  front  of  the  fire  to  dry.  She  had  dropped  it 
in  the  snow. 

"Yes,  and  wasn't  that  salad-dressing  fine?" 
chimed  in  Miss  Caroline.  "Sally  always  did 
have  a  real  talent  for  such  things." 

"It  could  n't  have  been  any  better  than  we 
had,"  insisted  Jack.  "I  do  n't  believe  I  '11  want 
anything  more  to  eat  for  a  week." 

"That 's  very  fortunate,"  answered  Miss 
Caroline,  "for  I  gave  Mena  an  entire  holiday. 
We  '11  only  have  a  cup  of  tea,  and  I  can  make 
that  in  here." 

They  sat  around  the  fire  in  the  gloaming, 
quietly  talking  over  the  happy  day.  One  of 
Bethany's  greatest  causes  for  thanksgiving  was 


214  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

that  these  two  gentle  lives  had  come  in  contact 
with  her  own.  Their  simple  piety  and  childlike 
faith  sweetened  the  atmosphere  around  them, 
like  the  modest,  old-fashioned  garden-flowers 
they  loved  so  dearly.  Well  for  Bethany  that  she 
had  the  constant  companionship  of  these  loving 
sisters.  Happy  for  Jack  that  he  found  in  them 
the  gracious  grandmotherly  tenderness,  with- 
out which  no  home  is  complete.  They  were  very 
proud  of  their  boy,  as  they  called  him.  Between 
the  Junior  League  and  their  conscientious  in- 
struction, Jack  was  pretty  firmly  "rooted  and 
grounded"  in  the  faith  of  his  fathers.  Night 
stole  on  so  gradually,  and  the  firelight  filled- the 
room  with  such  a  cheerful  glow,  they  did  not 
notice  how  dark  it  had  grown  outside,  until  a 
sudden  peal  of  the  door-bell  startled  them. 

"I  '11  go,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  adjusting  the 
spectacles  that  had  slipped  down  when  the  sud- 
den sound  made  her  start  nervously  up  from  her 
chair.  She  waited  to  light  the  gas,  and  hastily 
arrange  the  disordered  chairs. 

When  she  opened  the  door  she  saw  David 
Herschel  patiently  awaiting  admittance.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  called.  She  was 


DR.  TRENT.  215 

all  in  a  flutter  of  surprise  as  she  ushered  him 
into  the  library.  He  declined  to  take  a  seat. 

"I  have  just  come  home  from  Dr.  Trent's," 
he  said.  "You  know  he  boards  across  the  street 
from  Rabbi  Barthold's,  where  I  have  been 
spending  the  day.  He  was  called  out  to  see  a 
patient  last  night,  and  came  home  late,  with  a 
hard  chill.  Lee  saw  me  coming  out  of  the  gate 
a  little  while  ago,  and  came  running  over  to  tell 
me.  He  had  been  out  skating  all  morning. 
After  dinner,  when  he  went  up-stairs,  he  found 
his  father  delirious,  and  had  telephoned  for  Dr. 
Mills.  He  was  very  much  frightened,  and 
wanted  me  to  stay  with  him  until  the  doctor 
came.  As  soon  as  Dr.  Mills  examined  him,  he 
called  me  aside  and  asked  me  to  get  into  his 
buggy  and  drive  out  to  the  Deaconess  Home.  I 
have  just  come  from  there,"  he  said,  "and  Miss 
Carleton  has  no  case  on  hands.  Tell  her  if 
ever  she  was  needed  in  her  life,  she  is  needed 
now.  He  has  pneumonia,  and  it  has  been  neg- 
lected too  long,  I  'm  afraid.  It  may  be  a  matter 
of  only  a  few  hours." 

Bethany  started  up,  looking  so  white  and 
alarmed  that  David  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint.  He  arose,  too. 


216  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  must  go  over  there  at  once,"  she  said. 

"It  is  quite  dark,"  answered  David.  "I  am 
at  your  service,  if  you  want  me  to  wait  for  you." 

"O,  I  shall  not  keep  you  waiting  a  moment," 
she  answered.  "Jack,  I  '11  be  back  in  time  to 
help  you  to  bed." 

As  she  spoke  she  began  putting  on  her  wraps, 
which  were  still  lying  on  the  chair,  where  she 
had  thrown  them  off  on  coming  in,  a  little  while 
before. 

David  offered  his  arm  as  they  went  down  the 
icy  steps. 

"It  was  so  good  of  you  to  come  at  once,"  she 
said,  as  she  accepted  his  assistance.  "Is  Miss 
Carleton  there  now?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "she  was  ready  almost 
instantly.  She  is  the  same  nurse  that  I  met  early 
one  morning  in  that  laundry  office.  She  told 
me  on  the  way  back  that  Dr.  Trent  has  done  so 
much  for  the  Home  and  for  the  poor.  She  says 
she  owes  her  own  life  to  his  skill  and  care,  and 
that  no  service  she  could  render  him  would  be 
great  enough  to  express  her  gratitude.  They 
all  feel  that  way  about  him  at  the  Home." 

Belle  Cartleton  met  them  at  the  bedroom 
door.  "Dr.  Trent  has  just  spoken  about  you," 


DR.  TRENT.  217 

she  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Bethany.  "He  has  had 
several  lucid  intervals.  Take  off  your  hat  before 
you  go  to  him." 

Lee  sat  curled  up  in  a  big  chair  in  a  dark 
corner  of  the  room,  with  Taffy  hugged  tight  in 
his  arms.  An  undefinable  dread  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him.  He  looked  up  at  Bethany,  with 
a  frightened,  tearful  expression,  as  she  patted 
him  on  the  cheek  in  passing. 

Dr.  Trent  opened  his  eyes  when  she  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  took  his  hand.  He  smiled 
brightly  as  he  recognized  her. 

"Richard's  little  girl!"  he  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  for  he  could  not  speak  audibly.  "Dear 
old  Dick." 

Then  he  grew  delirious  again.  It  was  only 
at  intervals  he  had  these  gleams  of  consciousness. 

After  awhile  his  eyes  closed  wearily.  He 
seemed  to  sink  into  a  heavy  stupor.  Bethany 
sat  holding  his  hand,  with  the  tears  silently  drop- 
ping down  into  her  lap  as  she  looked  at  the  worn 
fingers  clasped  over  hers. 

What  a  world  of  good  that  hand  had  done! 
How  unselfishly  it  had  toiled  on  for  others,  to 
wipe  out  the  brother's  disgrace,  to  surround  the 
little  wife  with  comforts,  to  provide  the  boy 


218  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

with  the  best  of  everything!  Besides  all  that, 
it  had  filled,  as  far  as  lay  in  its  power,  every 
other  needy  hand,  stretched  out  toward  its  sym- 
pathetic clasp. 

She  sat  beside  him  a  long  time,  but  he  did 
not  waken  from  the  heavy  sleep  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  even  when  she  gently  withdrew 
her  fingers,  and  moved  away  to  let  Dr.  Mills 
take  her  place.  He  had  just  come  in  again. 

"Will  you  need  me  here  to-night,  Belle?" 
asked  Bethany. 

The  nurse  turned  to  Dr.  Mills  inquiringly. 
He  shook  his  head.  "Miss  Carleton  can  do  all 
that  is  necessary,"  he  said.  "I  shall  come  again 
about  midnight,  and  stay  the  rest  of  the  night, 
if  I  am  needed.  He  will  probably  have  no  more 
rational  awakenings  while  this  fever  keeps  at 
such  a  frightful  heat.  If  we  can  subdue  that 
soon,  he  has  such  great  vitality  he  may  pull 
through  all  right." 

"You  'd  better  go  back,  dear,"  urged  the 
nurse.  "You  have  your  work  ahead  of  you 
to-morrow,  and  you  look  very  tired." 

"I  have  an  almost  unbearable  headache," 
admitted  Bethany,  "or  I  would  not  think  of 
leaving.  I  would  not  go  even  for  that,  if  I 


DR.  TRENT.  219 

thought  he  would  have  conscious  intervals  of 
any  length;  but  the  doctor  thinks  that  is  hardly 
probable  to-night.  I  '11  come  back  early  in  the 
morning.  Maybe  he  will  know  me  then." 

"Are  you  going,  too?"  asked  Lee,  clinging 
wistfully  to  David's  hand,  as  Bethany  put  on  her 
hat. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  stay?"  he  asked, 
kindly. 

Lee  swallowed  hard,  and  winked  fast  to  keep 
back  the  tears. 

"Everybody  else  is  strangers,"  he  said,  with 
his  lip  trembling. 

David  put  his  arm  around  him  caressingly. 
His  sympathies  went  out  strongly  to  the  little 
lad,  who  might  so  soon  be  left  fatherless. 

"Then  I  '11  come  back  and  stay  with  you  till 
you  go  to  sleep,  after  I  take  Miss  Hallam  home," 
he  promised. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A   LITTLE    PRODIGAL. 

I 

EE  was  waiting  disconsolately  on  the 
stairs,  with  Taffy  beside  him,  when 
David  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
into  the  hall.  The  landlady  was  up- 
stairs with  the  nurse,  and  all  the  boarders  had 
gone  to  a  concert,  so  the  parlor  was  vacant,  and 
David  took  the  boy  in  there.  He  gave  him  an 
intricate  chain-puzzle  to  work  first,  and  after- 
ward told  him  such  entertaining  stories  of  his 
travels  that  Lee  forgot  his  painful  forebodings. 
The  clock  in  the  hall  struck  ten  before  either  of 
them  was  aware  how  swiftly  the  time  had  passed. 
"Here  's  a  little  fellow  who  does  n't  know 
where  he  is  to  sleep,"  David  said  to  the  nurse, 
when  they  had  noiselessly  entered  Dr.  Trent's 
room. 

"We  '11  cover  him  up  warm  on  the  sofa," 
she  said,  kindly.    "He  'd  better  not  undress." 

David  looked  quickly  across  to  the  bed.     "Is 
there  any  change  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 
220 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  221 

She  nodded,  and  then  motioned  him  aside. 
"Would  it  be  too  much  to  ask  you  to  stay  a 
couple  of  hours  longer,  until  Dr.  Mills  comes? 
Lee  clings  to  you  so,  and  the  end  may  be  much 
nearer  than  we  thought." 

"If  I  can  be  erf  any  use,  I  '11  stay  very  will- 
ingly," he  replied. 

They  moved  the  sofa  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  and  the  nurse  began  folding  some  blankets 
the  landlady  brought  her  to  lay  over  it. 

"Can  't  you  put  some  more  coal  on  the  fire, 
dear?"  she  asked  Lee. 

He  picked  up  a  larger  lump  than  he  could 
well  manage.  The  tongs  slipped,  and  it  fell  with 
a  great  noise  on  the  fender,  breaking  in  pieces 
as  it  did  so,  then  rattling  over  the  hearth. 

They  all  turned  apprehensively  toward  the 
bed.  The  heavy  jarring  sound  had  thoroughly 
aroused  Dr.  Trent  from  his  stupor.  He  looked 
around  the  room  as  if  trying  to  comprehend  the 
situation.  He  seemed  puzzled  to  account  for 
David's  presence  in  the  room,  and  drew  his  hand 
wonderingly  across  his  burning  forehead,  then 
pressed  it  against  his  aching  throat. 

The  nurse  bent  over  him  to  moisten  his 
parched  lips  with  a  spoonful  of  water. 


222  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Then  he  understood.  A  look  of  awe  stole 
over  his  face,  as  he  realized  his  condition.  He 
held  his  hand  out  towards  Lee,  and  the  nurse, 
turning,  beckoned  the  child  to  come.  He  folded 
the  cold,  trembling  little  fingers  in  his  hot  hands. 
"Papa's — dear — little  son!"  he  gasped  in  whis- 
pers. 

David  turned  his  head  away,  his  eyes  suf- 
fused with  hot  tears.  The  scene  recalled  so 
vividly  the  night  he  had  crept  to  his  father's 
bedside  for  the  last  time.  His  heart  ached  for 
the  little  fellow. 

"God — keep — you!"  came  in  the  same 
hoarse  whisper. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  nurse,  and  with  great 
effort  spoke  aloud,  "Belle,  pray!" 

David,  standing  with  bowed  head,  while  she 
knelt  with  her  arm  around  the  frightened  boy, 
listened  to  such  a  prayer  as  he  had  never  heard 
before.  He  had  wondered  one  time  how  this 
woman  could  sacrifice  everything  in  life  for  the 
sake  of  a  man  who  died  so  many  centuries  ago. 
But  as  he  listened  now,  to  her  low,  earnest  voice, 
he  felt  an  unseen  Presence  in  the  room,  as  of  the 
Christ  to  whom  she  spoke  so  confidingly. 

As  she  prayed  that  the  Everlasting  Arms 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  223 

might  be  underneath  as  this  soul  went  down 
into  the  "valley  of  the  shadow,"  the  doctor  cried 
out  exultingly,  "There  is  no  valley!" 

David  looked  up.  The  doctor's  worn  face 
was  shining  with  an  unspeakable  happiness.  He 
stretched  out  his  arms. 

"Jesus  saves  me!    O,  the  wonder  of  it!" 

His  hands  dropped.  Gradually  his  eyes 
closed,  and  he  relapsed  into  a  stupor,  from  which 
he  never  aroused.  When  Dr.  Mills  came  at 
midnight  he  was  still  breathing;  but  the  street 
lights  were  beginning  to  fade  in  the  gray,  wintry 
dawn  when  Belle  Carleton  reverently  laid  the 
lifeless  hands  across  the  still  heart,  and  turned 
to  look  at  Lee. 

The  child  had  sobbed  himself  to  sleep  on  the 
sofa,  and  David  had  gone. 

O,  the  pity  of  it,  that  we  keep  the  heart's-ease 
of  our  appreciation  to  wreathe  cold  coffin-lids, 
and  cover  unresponsive  clay ! 

There  was  a  constant  stream  of  people  pass- 
ing in  and  out  of  the  boarding-house  parlor  all 
day. 

Bethany  was  not  surprised  at  the  great  num- 
ber who  came  to  do  honor  to  Baxter  Trent,  nor 


224  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

at  the  tearful  accounts  of  his  helpful  ministra- 
tions from  those  he  had  befriended.  But  as  she 
arranged  the  great  masses  of  flowers  they 
brought,  she  thought  sadly,  "O,  why  did  n't 
they  send  these  when  he  was  in  such  sore  need 
of  love  and  sympathy?  Now  it's  too  late  to 
make  any  difference." 

All  sorts  of  people  came.  A  man  whose 
wrists  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  chafing  of  a 
convict's  shackles,  touched  one  of  the  lilies  that 
Bethany  had  placed  on  the  table  at  the  head  of 
the  casket. 

"He  lived  white!"  the  man  said,  shaking  his 
head  mournfully.  "I  reckon  he  was  ready  to 
go  if  ever  any  body  was." 

They  happened  to  be  alone  in  the  room, 
and  Bethany  repeated  what  the  nurse  had  told 
her  of  the  doctor's  triumphant  passing. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  there  was  a  timid 
knock  at  the  door.  Bethany  opened  it,  and  saw 
two  little  waifs  holding  each  other's  cold,  red 
hands.  One  had  a  ragged  shawl  pinned  over 
her  head,  and  the  other  wore  a  big,  flapping 
sunbonnet,  turned  back  from  her  thin,  pitiful 
face.  Their  teeth  were  chattering  with  cold 
and  bashfulness. 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  225 

"Missus,"  faltered  the  larger  one,  "we 
could  n't  get  no  wreaves  or  crosses,  but  granny 
said  he  would  like  this  "cause  it 's  so  bright  and 
gold-lookin.'  " 

The  dirty  little  hand  held  out  a  stemless, 
yellow  chrysanthemum. 

"Come  in,  dears/'  said  Bethany  softly,  open- 
ing the  door  wide  to  the  little  ragamuffins. 

They  glanced  around  the  mass  of  blossoms 
filling  the  room,  with  a  look  of  astonishment  that 
so  much  beauty  could  be  found  in  one  place. 

"Jess,"  whispered  the  oldest  one  to  her  sister, 
"'Pears  like  our  'n  do  n't  show  up  for  much,  be- 
side all  these.  I  wisht  he  knowed  we  walked  a 
mile  through  the  snow  to  fetch  it,  and  how  sorry 
we  was." 

Bethany  heard  the  disappointed  whisper. 
"Did  you  know  him  well?"  she  asked. 

"I  should  rather  say,"  answered  the  child. 
"He  kep'  us  from  starvin',  all  the  time  granny 
was  down  sick  so  long." 

"An'  once  he  took  me  and  Jess  ridin'  with 
him,  away  out  in  the  country,  and  he  let  us  get 
out  in  a  field  and  pick  lots  of  yellow  flowers, 
something  like  this,  only  littler.  Did  n't  he, 
Jess?" 

15 


226  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  other  child  nodded,  saying,  as  she  wiped 
her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  sister's  shawl, 
"Granny  says  we  '11  never  have  another  friend 
like  him  while  the  world  stands." 

Deeply  touched,  Bethany  held  up  the  stem- 
less  chrysanthemum.  "See,"  she  said,  "I  'm 
going  to  put  it  in  the  best  place  of  all,  right  here 
by  his  hand." 

The  door  opened  again  to  admit  David  Her- 
schel.  Before  it  closed  the  children  had  slipped 
bashfully  away,  still  hand  in  hand. 

Bethany  told  him  of  their  errand.  "Who 
could  have  brought  more?"  she  said,  touching 
the  shining  yellow  flower;  "for  with  this  little 
drop  of  gold  is  the  myrrh  of  a  childish  grief, 
and  the  frankincense  of  a  loving  remembrance." 

She  felt  that  he  could  appreciate  the  pathos 
of  the  gift,  and  the  love  that  prompted  it.  They 
had  grown  so  much  closer  together  in  the  last 
twenty-four  hours. 

"You  Ve  been  here  nearly  all  day,  have  n't 
you?"  he  asked,  noticing  her  tired  face.  "I  wish 
you  would  go  home  and  rest,  and  let  me  take 
your  place  awhile." 

He  insisted  so  kindly  that  at  last  she  yielded. 


A  LITTLE:  PRODIGAL.  227 

Her  sympathies  had  been  sorely  wrought  upon 
during-  the  day,  and  she  was  nearly  exhausted. 

After  she  had  gone,  he  sat  down  with  his 
overcoat  on,  near  the  front  window.  There  was 
only  a  smoldering  remnant  of  a  fire  in  the 
grate. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sunset  were  streaming  in 
between  the  slats  of  the  shutters.  He  could  hear 
the  boys  playing  in  the  snowy  streets,  and  the 
occasional  tinkle  of  passing  sleighbells. 

"I  wonder  where  Lee  is,"  he  thought.  He 
had  not  seen  the  child  since  morning. 

Two  working  men  came  in  presently.  They 
looked  long  and  silently  at  the  doctor's  peaceful 
face,  and  tiptoed  awkwardly  out  again. 

The  minutes  dragged  slowly  by. 

The  heavy  perfume  of  the  flowers  made 
David  drowsy,  and  he  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hand. 

The  door  opened  cautiously,  and  Lee  looked 
in.  His  eyes  were  swollen  with  crying.  He  did 
not  see  David  sitting  back  in  the  shadow.  Only 
one  long  ray  of  yellow  sunlight  shone  in  now, 
and  it  lay  athwart  the  still  form  in  the  center  of 
the  room. 


228  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Lee  paused  just  a  moment  beside  it,  then 
slipped  noiselessly  over  to  the  grate.  There  was 
a  pile  of  books  under  his  arm.  He  stirred  the 
dying  embers  as  quietly  as  he  could,  and  one  by 
one  laid  the  books  on  the  red  coals.  They  were 
the  ones  Jack  had  so  unreservedly  condemned. 
Last  of  all  he  threw  on  a  dogeared  deck  of  cards. 
They  blazed  up,  filling  the  room  with  light,  and 
revealing  David  in  his  seat  by  the  window. 

"O,"  cried  Lee  in  alarm,  "I  did  n't  know  any 
one  was  in  here." 

Then  leaning  against  the  wall,  he  put  his 
head  on  his  arm,  and  began  to  sob  in  deeper  dis- 
tress than  he  had  yet  shown.  He  felt  in  his 
pocket  for  a  handkerchief,  but  there  was  none 
there. 

David  took  out  his  own  and  wiped  the  boy's 
wet  face,  as  he  drew  him  tenderly  to  his  knee. 

"Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said. 

Lee  nestled  against  his  shoulder,  and  cried 
harder  for  awhile.  Then  he  sobbed  brokenly: 
"O,  I  've  been  so  bad,  and  he  never  knew  it!  I 
came  in  here  early  this  morning  before  anybody 
was  up,  to  tell  him  I  was  sorry — that  I  would  be 
a  good  boy — but  he  was  so  cold  when  T  touched 
him,  and  he  couldn't  answer  me!  O,  papa, 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  229 

papa!"  he  wailed.  "It 's  so  awful  to  be  left  all 
alone — just  a  little  boy  like  me!" 

David  folded  him  closer  without  speaking. 
Xo  wrords  could  touch  such  a  grief. 

Presently  Lee  sat  up  and  unfolded  a  piece  of 
paper.  It  was  only  the  scrap  of  a  fly-leaf,  its 
jagged  edges  showing  it  had  been  torn  from  some 
school-book. 

"Do  you  think  it  will  hurt  if  I  put  this  in  his 
pocket?"  he.  asked  in  a  trembling  voice.  "I 
want  him  to  take  it  with  him.  I  felt  like  if  I 
burned  up  those  books  in  here,  and  put  this  in 
his  pocket,  he  'd  know  how  sorry  I  was." 

David  took  the  bit  of  paper,  all  blistered  with 
boyish  tears,  where  a  penitent  little  hand,  out 
of  the  depths  of  a  desolate  little  heart,  had 
scrawled  the  promise:  "Dear  Papa, — I  will  be 
good." 

A  sob  shook  the  man's  strong  frame  as  he 
read  it. 

"I  think  he  will  be  very  glad  to  have  you  give 
him  that,"  he  answered.  "You  'd  better  put  it 
in  his  pocket  before  any  one  comes  in." 

Lee  slipped  down  from  his  lap,  and  crossed 
the  room.  "O,  I  can  't,"  he  moaned,  attempting 
to  lift  the  lifeless  hands. 


230      IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL,. 

David  reached  down,  and  unbuttoning  the 
coat,  laid  the  promise  of  the  little  prodigal 
gently  on  his  father's  heart,  to  await  its  reading 
in  the  glad  light  of  the  resurrection  morning. 
Then  he  called  some  one  else  to  take  his  place, 
and  went  to  telephone  for  a  sleigh.  In  a  little 
while  he  was  driving  through  the  twilight  out 
one  of  the  white  country  roads,  with  Lee  beside 
him,  that  nature's  wintry  solitudes  might  lay  a 
cool  hand  of  healing  sympathy  on  the  boy's  sore 
heart. 

Bethany  took  him  home  with  her  after  the 
funeral,  and  kept  him  a  week. 

Miss  Caroline  and  Miss  Harriet  petted  him 
with  all  the  ardor  of  their  motherly  old  hearts. 
Jack  did  his  best  to  amuse  him,  and  with  the 
elasticity  of  childhood,  he  began  to  recover  his 
usual  vivacity. 

"This  can  not  go  on  always,"  Mr.  Marion 
said  to  Bethany  one  day.  He  had  gone  up  to  the 
office  to  talk  to  her  about  it. 

Dr.  Trent  had  left  a  small  insurance,  request- 
ing that  Frank  Marion  be  appointed  guardian. 

"Ray  wants  him,"  continued  Mr.  Marion. 
"She  would  have  turned  the  house  into  an  or- 
phan asylum  long  ago  if  I  had  allowed  it.  But 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  231 

she  has  so  many  demands  on  her  time  and 
strength  that  I  am  unwilling  to  have  her  taxed 
any  more.  You  see,  for  instance,  if  we  should 
take  Lee,  I  am  away  from  home  so  much,  that 
the  greater  part  of  the  care  and  responsibility 
would  fall  on  her.  Just  now  his  father's  death 
has  touched  him,  and  he  is  making  a  great  effort 
to  do  all  right;  but  it  will  be  a  hard  fight  for  him 
in  a  big  place  like  this,  so  full  of  temptations  to 
a  boy  of  his  age.  He  would  be  a  constant  care. 
The  only  thing  I  can  see  is  to  put  him  in  some 
private  school  for  a  few  years." 

"Let  me  keep  him  till  after  Christmas," 
urged  Bethany.  "I  can't  bear  to  let  the  little 
fellow  go  away  among  strangers  this  near  the 
holiday  season.  I  keep  thinking,  What  if  it 
were  Jack?" 

"How  would  it  do  for  me  to  take  him  out  on 
my  next  trip?"  suggested  Mr.  Marion.  "I  will 
be  gone  two  weeks,  just  to  little  country  towns 
in  the  northern  part  of  the  State,  where  he  could 
have  a  variety  of  scenes  to  amuse  him." 

"That  will  be  fine!"  answered  Bethany. 
"I  'm  sure  he  will  like  it." 

Lee  was  somewhat  afraid  of  his  tall,  digni- 
fied guardian.  He  had  a  secret  fear  that  he 


232  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

would  always  be  preaching  to  him,  or  telling  him 
Bible  stories.  He  hoped  that  the  customers 
would  keep  him  very  busy  during  the  day,  and 
he  resolved  always  to  go  to  bed  early  enough  to 
escape  any  curtain  lectures  that  might  be  in 
store  for  him. 

To  his  great  relief,  Mr.  Marion  proved  the 
jolliest  of  traveling  companions.  There  was  no 
preaching.  He  did  not  even  try  to  make  sly 
hints  at  the  boy's  past  behavior  by  tacking  a 
moral  on  to  the  end  of  his  stories,  and  he  only 
laughed  when  Taffy  crawled  out  of  the  innocent- 
looking  brown  paper  bundle  that  Lee  would  not 
put  out  of  his  arms  until  after  the  train  had 
started. 

Such  long  sleigh-rides  as  they  had  across  the 
open  country  between  little  towns!  Such  fine 
skating  places  he  found  while  Mr.  Marion  was 
busy  with  his  customers!  It  was  a  picnic  in  ten 
chapters,  he  told  one  of  the  drivers. 

One  afternoon,  as  they  drove  over  the  hard, 
frozen  pike,  one  of  the  horses  began  to  limp. 

"Shoe 's  comin'  off,"  said  the  driver. 
"Lucky  we  're  near  Sikes's  smithy.  It 's  jes' 
round  the  next  bend,  over  the  bridge." 

The  smoky  blacksmith-shop,  with  its  flying 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  233 

sparks  and  noisy  anvils,  was  nothing  new  to 
Lee.  He  had  often  hung  around  one  in  the  city. 
In  fact,  there  were  few  places  he  had  not  ex- 
plored. 

The  smith  was  a  loud,  blatant  fellow,  so  in 
the  habit  of  using  rough  language  that  every 
sentence  was  accompanied  with  an  oath. 

Mr.  Marion  had  taken  Lee  in  to  warm  by  the 
fire. 

"I  wonder  what  that  horrible  noise  is!"  he 
said.  They  had  heard  a  harsh,  grating  sound, 
like  some  discordant  grinding,  ever  since  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  shop. 

Sikes  pointed  over  his  shoulder  with  his  sooty 
thumb. 

"It 's  an  ole  mill  back  yender.  It 's  out  o' 
gear  somew'eres.  It  set  me  plumb  crazy  at  first, 
but  I  'm  gettin'  used  to  it  now." 

"Let 's  go  over  and  investigate,"  said  Mr. 
Marion,  anxious  to  get  Lee  out  of  such  polluted 
atmosphere. 

The  miller,  an  easy-going  old  fellow,  nearly 
as  broad  as  he  was  long,  did  not  even  take  the 
trouble  to  remove  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  as  he 
answered:  "O,  that!  That's  nothing  but,  just 
one  of  the  cogs  is  gone  out  of  one  of  the  wheels. 


234  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

I  keep  thinking  I'll  get  it  fixed;  but  there's 
always  a  grist  a-waiting,  so  somehow  I  never  get 
'round  to  it.  Does  make  an  or'nery  sound  for  a 
fact,  stranger;  but  if  I  do  n't  mind  it,  reckon 
nobody  else  need  worry." 

"Lazy  old  scoundrel,"  laughed  Mr.  Marion, 
after  they  had  passed  out  of  doors  again.  "I 
do  n't  see  how  he  stands  such  a  horrible  noise. 
It  is  a  nuisance  to  the  whole  neighborhood." 

When  he  reported  the  conversation  at  the 
smithy,  Sikes  swore  at  the  miller  soundly. 

Frank  Marion's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  took  a 
step  forward. 

"Look  here,  Sikes,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
that  made  every  one  in  the  shop  pause  to  listen, 
"you  've  got  a  bigger  cog  missing  in  you  than 
the  old  mill  has,  and  it  makes  you  a  sight  bigger 
nuisance  to  the  neighborhood.  You  have  lost 
your  reverence  for  all  that  is  holy.  You  go 
grinding  away  by  yourself,  leaving  out  God, 
leaving  out  Christ,  making  a  miserable  failure 
of  your  life  grist,  and  every  time  you  open  your 
lips,  your  blasphemous  words  tell  the  story  of 
the  missing  cog.  If  that  old  mill-wheel  makes 
such  a  hateful  sound,  what  kind  of  a  discord  do 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  235 

you  suppose  your  life  is  making  in  the  ears  of 
your  Heavenly  Father?" 

Sikes  looked  at  him  an  instant  irresolutely. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  knock  him  over  with 
the  heavy  hammer  he  held;  but  the  truth  of  the 
fearless  words  struck  home,  and  he  could  not 
help  respecting  the  man  who  had  the  courage 
to  utter  them. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  had  no 
idee  you  was  a  parson.  I  laid  out  as  you  was  a 
drummer." 

"I  am  a  drummer,"  answered  Marion.  "I 
am  a  wholesale  shoe-merchant  now;  but  I  spent 
so  many  years  on  the  road  for  this  same  house 
before  I  went  into  the  firm,  that  I  often  go  out 
over  my  old  territory." 

Sikes  regarded  him  curiously.  "Strikes  me 
you  've  got  sermons  and  shoe-leather  pretty 
badly  mixed  up,"  he  said. 

Afterward,  when  he  had  watched  the  sleigh 
disappear  down  the  road,  he  picked  up  the  bel- 
lows and  worked  them  in  an  absent-minded  sort 
of  a  way. 

"A  drummer!"  he  repeated  under  his  breath. 
"A  drummer!  I'll  be— blowed!" 


236  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  incident  made  a  profound  impression  on 
Lee.  A  loop  in  the  road  brought  them  in  sight 
of  the  old  mill  again. 

"We  do  n't  want  to  have  any  cogs  missing, 
do  we,  son!"  said  Mr.  Marion,  first  pinching  the 
boy's  rosy  cheek,  and  then  stooping  to  tuck  the 
buffalo  robes  more  snugly  around  him. 

The  subject  was  not  referred  to  again,  but 
the  lesson  was  not  forgotten. 

Sunday  was  passed  at  a  little  country  hotel. 
They  walked  to  the  Church  a  mile  away  in  the 
morning.  Time  hung  heavy  on  Lee's  hands  in 
the  afternoon  while  Mr.  Marion  was  reading. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  Taffy,  it  would  have  been 
insufferably  dull.  He  had  a  slight  cold,  so  Mr. 
Marion  did  not  take  him  out  to  the  night  service. 
He  left  him  playing  with  the  landlady's  baby 
in  the  hotel  parlor.  That  amusement  did  not 
last  long,  however.  The  baby  was  put  to  bed, 
and  some  of  the  neighbors  came  in  for  a  visit 
Lee  felt  out  of  place,  and  went  up  to  their  room. 

It  was  the  best  the  house  afforded,  but  it  was 
far  from  being  an  attractive  place.  The  walls 
were  strikingly  white  and  bare.  A  hideous 
green  and  purple  quilt  covered  the  bed.  The 


A  LITTLE  PRODIGAL.  237 

rag  carpet  was  a  dull,  faded  gray.  The  lamp 
smoked  when  he  turned  it  up,  and  smelled 
strongly  of  coal-oil  when  he  turned  it  down. 

He  felt  so  lonely  and  homesick  that  he  con- 
cluded to  go  to  bed.  It  was  very  early.  He 
could  not  sleep,  but  lay  there  in  the  dark,  lis- 
tening to  somebody's  rocking-chair,  going 
squeakety  squeak  in  the  parlor  below. 

He  wished  he  could  be  as  comfortable  and 
content  as  Taffy,  curled  up  in  some  flannel  in  a 
shoe-box,  on  a  chair  beside  the  bed.  He  reached 
out,  and  stroked  the  puppy's  soft  back. 

The  feeling  came  over  him  as  he  did  so,  that 
there  was  n't  anybody  in  all  the  world  for  him 
really  to  belong  to. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  Bethany  took  him 
home  that  he  had  felt  like  crying.  Now  he  lay 
and  sobbed  softly  to  himself  till  he  heard  Mr. 
Marion's  step  on  the  stairs. 

He  grew  quiet  then,  and  kept  his  eyes  closed. 
Mr.  Marion  lighted  the  lamp,  putting  a  high- 
backed  chair  in  front  of  it,  so  that  it  could  not 
shine  on  the  bed.  He  picked  up  his  Bible  that 
was  lying  on  the  table,  and,  turning  the  leaves 
very  quietly  that  he  might  not  disturb  Lee, 
found  the  night's  lesson. 


238  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

A  stifled  sniffle  made  him  pause.  After  a 
long  time  he  heard  another.  Laying  down  his 
book,  he  stepped  up  to  the  bed.  Lee  was  per- 
fectly motionless,  but  the  pillow  was  wet,  and 
his  face  streaked  with  traces  of  tears.  Marion, 
with  his  hands  thrust  in  his  pockets,  stood  look- 
ing at  him. 

All  the  fatherly  impulses  of  his  nature  were 
stirred  by  the  pitiful  little  face  on  the  pillow. 

He  knelt  down  and  put  his  strong  arm  ten- 
derly over  the  boy. 

"Lee,"  he  said,  "look  up  here,  son." 

Lee  glanced  timidly  at  the  bearded  face  so 
near  his  own. 

"You  were  lying  here  in  the  dark,  crying 
because  you  felt  that  there  was  nobody  left  to 
love  you.  Now  put  your  arms  around  my  neck, 
dear,  while  I  tell  you  something.  I  had  a  little 
child  once.  I  can  never  begin  to  tell  you  how 
I  loved  her.  When  she  died  it  nearly  broke  my 
heart.  But  I  said,  for  her  sake  I  shall  love  all 
children,  and  try  to  make  them  happy.  Because 
her  little  feet  knew  the  way  home  to  God,  I 
shall  try  to  keep  all  other  children  in  the  same 
pure  path.  For  her  sake,  first,  I  loved  you; 


A  LITTLK  PRODIGAL.  239 

now,  since  we  have  been  together,  for  your  own. 
I  want  you  to  feel  that  I  am  such  a  close  friend 
that  you  can  always  come  to  me  just  as  freely 
as  you  did  to  your  father." 

The  boy's  clasp  around  his  neck  tightened. 

"But,  Lee,  there  will  be  times  in  your  life 
when  you  will  need  greater  help  than  I  can  give; 
and  because  I  know  just  how  you  will  be  tried, 
and  tempted,  and  discouraged,  I  want  you  to 
take  the  best  of  friends  for  your  own  right  now. 
I  want  you  to  take  Jesus.  Will  you  do  this?" 

Lee  hesitated,  and  then  said  in  a  half-fright- 
ened whisper,  "I  do  n't  know  how." 

"Did  you  ever  ask  your  papa  to  forgive  you 
after  you  had  been  very  naughty?"  asked  Mr. 
Marion. 

"O  yes,"  cried  Lee,  "but  it  was  too  late." 
Between  his  choking  sobs  he  told  of  the  promise 
lying  on  his  father's  heart,  in  the  far-off  grave 
under  the  cemetery  cedars. 

Mr.  Marion  controlled  his  voice  with  an 
effort,  as  he  pointed  out  the  way  so  surely  and 
so  simply  that  Lee  could  not  fail  to  understand. 

Then,  with  his  arm  still  around  him,  he 
prayed;  and  the  boy,  following  him  step  by  step 


240  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

through  that  earnest  prayer,  groped  his  way  to 
his  Savior. 

It  was  a  time  never  to  be  forgotten  by  either 
Frank  Marion  or  Lee.  They  lay  awake  till  long 
after  midnight,  too  happy  even  to  think  of  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
HERZENRUHE. 

STORY  has  come  down  to  us  of  a 
cricket  that,  hidden  away  in  an  old  oak 
chest,  found  its  way  to  the  New  World 
in  the  hold  of  the  Mayflower.  When 
night  came,  and  the  strange  loneliness  of  those 
winter  wilds  made  the  bravest  heart  appalled; 
when  little  children  held  with  homesick  long- 
ing to  their  mother's  hands,  and  talked  of  Eng- 
land's bonny  hedgerows,  then  the  brave  little 
cricket  came  out  on  the  hearthstone;  and  its 
familiar  chirp,  bringing  back  the  cheer  of  the 
happy  past,  comforted  the  children,  and  sang 
new  hopes  into  the  hearts  of  their  elders. 

With  every  vessel  that  has  touched  the  New 
World's  shores  since  that  time  have  come  these 
fireside  voices.  Whether  stowed  away  in  the 
ample  chests  of  the  first  Virginians,  or  bound 
in  the  bundles  of  the  last  steerage  passengers 
just  landed  at  Castle  Garden,  some  quaint  cus- 
tom of  a  distant  Fatherland  has  always  folded  its 
16  241 


242  IN  L,EAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

wings,  ready  to  chirp  on  the  new  hearthstone, 
the  familiar  even-song  of  the  old. 

That  is  how  the  American  celebration  of 
Christmas  has  become  so  cosmopolitan  in  its 
character.  It  is  a  chorus  of  all  the  customs  that, 
cricket-like,  have  journeyed  to  us,  each  with  its 
song  of  an  "auld  lang  syne." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  little  of  everything 
this  year,"  remarked  Miss  Caroline,  as,  pencil 
in  hand,  she  prepared  to  make  a  long  memo- 
randum. 

It  was  two  weeks  before  Christmas,  and^she 
had  called  a  family  council  in  her  room,  after 
Jack  had  gone  to  bed. 

Mrs.  Marion  and  Lois  were  there,  busily 
embroidering. 

"It  is  the  first  time  we  have  had  a  home  of 
our  own  for  so  many  years,  or  been  where  there 
is  a  child  in  the  family,"  added  Miss  Harriet, 
"that  we  ought  to  make  quite  an  occasion  of  it." 

"Now,  my  idea,"  remarked  Miss  Caroline, 
"is  to  begin  back  with  the  mistletoe  of  the 
Druids,  and  then  the  holly  and  plum-pudding 
of  old  England.  I  ?m  sorry  we  can't  have  the 
Yule  log  and  the  wassail-bowl  and  the  dear  little 


HHRZENRUHE.  243 

Christmas  waits.  It  must  have  been  so  lovely. 
But  we  can  have  a  tree  Christmas  eve,  with  all 
the  beautiful  German  customs  that  go  with  it. 
Jack  must  hang  up  his  stocking  by  the  chimney, 
whether  he  believes  in  Santa  Clans  or  not.  Then 
we  must  read  up  all  the  Scandinavian  and  Dutch 
and  Flemish  customs,  and  observe  just  as  many 
as  we  can." 

"And  all  this  just  for  Jack  and  Lee,"  said 
Mrs.  Marion,  thoughtfully. 

"Bless  you,  no,"  exclaimed  Miss  Caroline. 
"Jack  is  going  to  invite  ten  poor  children  that 
the  Junior  Mercy  and  Help  Department  have 
reported.  He  is  so  grateful  for  being  able  to 
walk  a  little,  that  he  wants  to  give  up  his  whole 
Christmas  to  them." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  asked  Lois. 
"I  'm  through  with  my  last  present  now,  and 
am  ready  for  anything,  from  serving  a  dinner  to 
the  slums  to  playing  a  bagpipe  for  its  enter- 
tainment." 

As  she  spoke  she  snipped  the  last  thread  of 
silk  with  her  little  silver  scissors,  and  tossed  the 
piece  of  embroidery  into  Bethany's  lap. 

Bethany  spread  it  out  admiringly.     "You 


244  IN   lyEAGUK   WITH    ISRAEL. 

are  a  true  artist,  Lois,"  she  said.  "These  sweet 
peas  look  as  if  they  had  just  been  gathered. 
They  would  almost  tempt  the  bees." 

"They  're  not  as  natural  as  Ray's  butter- 
cups," answered  Lois.  "You  can't  guess  whom 
she  's  making  that  table-cover  for?" 

Mrs.  Marion  held  it  up  for  them  to  see.  "For 
that  dear  old  grandmother  where  we  were  enter- 
tained at  Chattanooga  last  summer,"  she  said. 
"Do  n't  you  remember  Mrs.  "Warf ord,  Bethany  ? 
She  could  n't  hear  well  enough  to  enjoy  the 
meetings,  or  to  talk  to  us  much,  but  her  face  was 
a  perpetual  welcome.  She  asked  me  into -her 
room  one  day,  and  showed  me  a  great  bunch  of 
red  clover  some  one  had  sent  her  from  the 
country.  She  seemed  so  pleased  with  it,  and 
told  me  about  the  clover  chains  she  used  to  make, 
and  the  buttercups  she  used  to  pick  in  the  mead- 
ows at  home,  with  all  the  artlessness  of  a  child. 
That  is  why  I  chose  this  design." 

"There  never  was  another  like  you,  Cousin 
Ray,"  said  Bethany.  "You  remember  every- 
thing and  everybody  at  Christmas,  and  I  do  n't 
see  how  you  ever  manage  to  get  through  with  so 
much  work.''' 

"Love  lightens  labor,"  quoted  Miss  Harriet, 


HERZENRUHE.  245 

sententiously.  "At  least  that 's  what  my  old 
copy-book  used  to  say." 

"And  it  also  said,  if  I  remember  aright," 
said  Miss  Caroline,  a  little  severely,  "  'Plan  out 
your  work,  and  work  out  your  plan.'  It 's  high 
time  we  were  settling  down  to  business,  if  we 
expect  to  accomplish  anything." 

While  this  Christmas  council  was  in  session 
in  Hiss  Caroline's  room,  another  was  being  held 
in  an  old  farm-house  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  State,  by  Gottlieb  Ilartmann's  wife  and 
daughter.  Everything  in  the  room  gave  evi- 
dence of  German  thrift  and  neatness,  from  the 
shining  brass  andirons  on  the  hearth,  to  the 
geraniums  blooming  on  the  window-sill. 

"Herzenruhe"  was  the  name  of  the  home 
Gottlieb  Hartmann  had  left  behind  him  in  the 
Fatherland,  when  he  came  to  America  a  poor 
emigrant  boy;  and  that  was  the  name  now  carved 
on  the  arch  that  spanned  the  wide  entrance-gate, 
leading  to  the  home  and  the  well-tilled  acres 
that  he  had  earned  by  years  of  steady,  honest 
toil. 

It  was  indeed  "heart's-ease,"  or  heart-rest,  to 
every  wayfarer  sheltered  under  its  ample  roof- 
tree. 


246  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

He  had  accumulated  his  property  by  careful 
economy,  but  he  gave  out  with  the  same  con- 
scientious spirit  with  which  he  gathered  in.  N  o 
matter  when  the  summons  might  come,  at  night- 
fall or  at  cock-crowing,  he  was  ready  to  give  an 
account  of  his  faithful  stewardship.  Not  only 
had  he  divided  his  bread  with  the  hungry,  but 
he  had  given  time  and  personal  care,  and  a  share 
in  his  own  home-life,  to  those  who  were  in  need. 

More  than  one  young  farmer,  jogging  past 
Herzenruhe  in  a  wagon  of  his  own,  looked  grate- 
fully up  the  long  lane,  and  remembered  that  he 
owed  the  steady  habits  of  his  manhood  and  his 
present  prosperity  to  Gottlieb  Hartmann.  For 
in  all  the  years  since  he  had  had  a  place  of  his 
own,  there  had  seldom  been  a  time  when  some 
homeless  boy  or  another  had  not  been  a  member 
of  his  household. 

He  was  an  old  man  now,  white-haired  and 
rheumatic,  and  called  grandfather  by  all  the 
country  side;  but  he  was  still  young  at  heart, 
sweet  and  sound  to  the  very  core,  like  a  hardy 
winter  apple.  His  children  had  all  married  and 
gone  farther  West,  except  his  oldest  daughter, 
Carlotta,  whom  no  one  had  ever  been  able  to 


HERZENRUHE.  247 

lure  away  from  her  comfortable  home-nest.  She 
was  an  energetic,  self-willed  little  body,  and  had 
gradually  assumed  control  until  the  entire  house- 
hold revolved  around  her.  Just  now  she  had 
wheeled  her  sewing-machine  beside  the  table,  on 
which  the  evening  lamp  stood,  and  was  prepar- 
ing to  dress  a  whole  family  of  dolls  to  be  packed 
in  the  Christmas  boxes  that  were  soon  to  be  sent 
West. 

Her  mother  sat  on  one  side  of  the  fireplace, 
her  sweet,  wrinkled  old  face  bright  with  the 
loving  thoughts  that  her  needles  were  putting 
into  a  little  red  mitten,  destined  for  one  of  the 
boxes. 

"It  will  be  the  first  Christmas  since  I  can 
remember,"  said  Carlotta,  "that  there  will  be  no 
little  ones  here,  and  no  tree  to  light.  Ben's  boy 
was  here  last  year,  and  all  of  Mary's  children 
the  year  before.  It 's  a  pity  they  are  so  far  away. 
It  will  just  spoil  my  Christmas." 

Mr.  Hartmann  laid  down  the  German  Ad- 
vocate he  was  reading. 

"Ach,  Lotta,"  he  said,  "I  forgot  to  tell  you. 
There  will  be  a  little  lad  here  to-morrow  to  take 
dinner  with  us.  When  I  was  in  town  to-day  I 


248  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

met  our  good  friend,  Frank  Marion,  and  he  had 
a  boy  with  him  whose  father  is  just  dead,  and 
he  is  the  guardian." 

"How  many  years  has  it  been  since  Mr.  Ma- 
rion first  came  here?"  asked  Carlotta.  "Seems 
to  me  I  was  only  a  little  girl,  and  now  I  have 
pulled  out  lots  of  gray  hairs  already." 

"It  has  been  twenty  years  at  least,"  answered 
her  mother.  "It  was  while  we  were  building 
the  ice-house,  I  know." 

"Yes,"  assented  her  husband,  "I  had  gone 
into  Ridgeville  one  Saturday  to  get  some  new 
boots,  and  I  met  him  in  the  shoestore.  He  was 
just  a  young  fellow  making  his  first  trip,  and 
he  seemed  so  strange  and  homesick  that  when  I 
found  he  was  a  country  boy  and  a  strong  Meth- 
odist, I  brought  him  out  here  to  stay  over  Sun- 
day with  us." 

"I  remember  you  brought  him  right  into  the 
kitchen  where  I  was  dropping  noodles  in  the 
soup,"  answered  Mrs.  Hartmann,  "and  he  has 
seemed  to  feel  like  one  of  the  family  ever  since." 

"Yes,  he  has  never  missed  coming  out  here 
every  time  he  has  been  in  this  part  of  the  State, 
from  that  day  to  this,"  said  Mr.  Hartmann,  tak- 
ing up  his  paper  again. 


HERZENRUHE.  249 

Meanwhile,  in  the  Ridgeville  Hotel,  three 
miles  away,  Mr.  Marion  was  telling  Lee  of  all 
the  pleasant  things  that  awaited  him  at  Herzen- 
ruhe.  The  boy  was  so  impatient  to  start  that  he 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  time  to  come,  and  he 
dreamed  all  night  of  the  country. 

Mr.  Marion  saw  very  little  of  him  during  the 
visit.  The  delighted  child  spent  all  his  time  in 
the  barn,  or  in  the  dairy,  helping  Miss  Carlotta. 
"O,  I  wish  we  did  n't  ever  have  to  go  away,"  he 
said.  "There  's  the  dearest  little  colt  in  the 
barn,  and  six  Holstein  calves,  and  a  big  pond  in 
the  pasture  covered  with  ice!" 

Later  he  confided  to  Mr.  Marion,  "Miss  Car- 
lotta makes  doughnuts  every  Saturday,  and  she 
says  there 's  bushels  of  hickory-nuts  in  the 
garret." 

When  Miss  Carlotta  found  that  Mr.  Marion 
was  going  on  to  the  next  town  before  starting 
home,  she  insisted  on  keeping  Lee  until  his  re- 
turn. 

"Let  him  get  some  of  'the  sun  and  wind  into 
his  pulses.'  It  will  be  good  for  him,"  she  said. 

"Nobody  knows  better  than  I,"  answered 
Mr.  Marion,  "the  sweet  wholesomeness  of 
country  living.  I  should  be  glad  to  leave  him 


250  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

in  such  an  atmosphere  always.  He  would  de- 
velop into  a  much  purer  manhood,  and  I  am 
sure  would  be  far  happier." 

Miss  Carlotta  shook  her  head  sagely. 
"We  '11  see,"  she  said.  "Do  n't  say  anything  to 
him  about  it,  but  we  '11  try  him  while  you  're 
gone,  and  then  I  '11  talk  to  father.  He  seems 
right  handy  about  the  chores,  and  there  is  a  good 
school  near  here." 

Two  days  later,  when  Mr.  Marion  came  back, 
he  went  out  to  the  barn  to  find  Lee.  The  boy 
had  just  scrambled  out  of  a  haymow  with  his 
hat  full  of  eggs.  His  face  was  beaming. 

"I  've  learned  to  milk,"  he  said  proudly, 
"and  I  rode  to  the  post-office  this  afternoon, 
horseback." 

"Do  you  like  it  here,  my  boy?"  asked  Mr. 
Marion. 

"Like  it!"  repeated  Lee,  emphatically. 
"Well  I  should  say!  Mr.  Hartmann  is  just  the 
grandfatheriest  old  grandfather  I  ever  knew, 
and  they  're  all  so  good  to  me." 

It  proved  to  be  a  very  eventful  journey  for 
the  boy;  for  after  some  discussion  about  his 
board,  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  come  back 
to  the  farm  after  the  holidays. 


HERZENRUHE.  251 

"Do  I  have  to  wait  till  then?"  he  asked. 
"Why  could  n't  I  stay  right  on,  now  I  'm  here. 
You  could  send  my  clothes  to  me,  and  it 
would  n't  cost  near  as  much  as  to  go  home  first." 

"What  will  Bethany  say?"  asked  Mr.  Ma- 
rion. "She  is  planning  for  a  big  tree  and  lots 
of  fun  Christmas." 

"But  papa  won't  be  there,"  pleaded  Lee. 
"I  'd  so  much  rather  stay  here  than  go  back  to 
town  and  find  him  gone." 

"Then  you  shall  stay,"  exclaimed  Miss  Car- 
lotta,  touched  by  the  expression  of  his  face. 
"We  '11  have  a  tree  here.  You  can  dig  one  up  in 
the  woods  yourself." 

When  Mr.  Marion  drove  away,  Lee  rode 
down  the  lane  with  him  to  open  the  big  gate." 
After  he  had  driven  through  he  turned  for  one 
more  look. 

The  boy  stood  under  the  archway  waving 
good-bye  with  his  cap.  The  late  afternoon  sun 
shone  brightly  on  the  happy  face,  and  illumi- 
nated the  snow,  still  clinging  to  the  quaintly 
carved  letters  on  the  arch  above,  till  it  seemed 
they  were  all  golden  letters  that  spelled  the  name 
of  Herzenruhe. 


252  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

This  holiday  season  would  have  been  a  sad 
time  for  Bethany,  had  she  allowed  herself  to 
listen  to  the  voices  of  Christmas  past,  but  Baxter 
Trent's  example  helped  her.  She  turned  reso- 
lutely away  from  her  memories,  saying:  "I  will 
be  like  him.  No  heart  shall  ever  have  the 
shadow  of  my  sorrow  thrown  across  it." 

Full  of  one  thought  only,  to  bring  some  hap- 
piness into  every  life  that  touched  her  own,  she 
found  herself  sharing  the  delight  of  every  child 
she  saw  crowding  its  face  against  the  great  show 
windows.  She  anticipated  the  pleasure  that 
would  attend  the  opening  of  each  bundle  carried 
by  every  purchaser  that  jostled  against  her  in 
the  street.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  breathe 
the  general  air  of  festivity  at  home,  and  not  carry 
something  of  the  Christmas  spirit  to  the  office 
with  her. 

"Everybody  has  caught  the  contagion,"  she 
said  gayly,  coming  into  the  office  Saturday  after- 
noon, with  sparkling  eyes,  and  snowflakes  still 
clinging  to  her  dark  furs.  "I  saw  that  old  bach- 
elor, Mr.  Crookshaw,  whom  everybody  thinks 
so  miserly,  going  along  with  a  little  red  cart 
under  his  arm,  and  a  tin  locomotive  bulging  out 
of  his  pocket." 


HERZENRUHE.  253 

"Jack  is  missing  a  great  deal,"  said  David, 
"by  not  being  down-town  every  day." 

"O  no,  indeed!"  she  exclaimed.  "He  is 
nearly  wild  now  with  the  excitement  of  the  prep- 
arations that  are  going  on  at  home.  That  re- 
minds me,  he  has  written  a  special  invitation  for 
you  to  be  present  at  the  lighting  of  his  tree 
Christmas  eve.  He  put  it  in  my  muff,  so  that  I 
could  not  possibly  forget.  I  am  sure  you  will 
enjoy  watching  the  children,"  she  added,  after 
she  had  told  him  of  their  various  plans,  "and  I 
hope  you  will  be  sure  to  come." 

"Thank  you,"  he  responded,  warmly.  "That 
is  the  second  invitation  I  have  had  this  after- 
noon. Mr.  Marion  has  just  been  in  to  ask  me  to 
attend  the  League's  devotional  meeting  to-mor- 
row night.  He  says  it  will  be  especially  inter- 
esting on  account  of  the  season,  and  insists  that 
'turn  about  is  fair  play.'  He  went  to  our  Atone- 
ment-day services,  and  he  wants  me  to  be  present 
at  his  Christmas  services." 

"We  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  come," 
said  Bethany.  "Dr.  Bascom  is  to  lead  the  meet- 
ing instead  of  any  of  the  young  people,  who 
usually  take  turns.  I  can  not  tell  how  such  a 


254  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

meeting  might  impress  an  outsider;  to  me  they 
are  very  inspiring  and  helpful." 

That  night,  as  she  sat  in  her  room  indulging 
in  a  few  minutes  of  meditation  before  putting 
out  the  light,  she  reviewed  her  acquaintance 
with  David  Herschel.  Her  conscience  con- 
demned her  for  the  little  use  she  had  made  of 
her  opportunity. 

It  had  been  four  months  since  he  had  come 
into  the  office,  and  while  they  had  several  times 
discussed  their  respective  religions,  she  had  never 
found  an  occasion  when  she  could  make  a  per- 
sonal appeal  to  him  to  accept  Christ.  Once  when 
she  had  been  about  to  do  so,  he  had  abruptly 
walked  away,  and  another  time,  a  client  had 
interrupted  them. 

"I  must  speak  to  him  frankly,"  she  said. 
Then  she  knelt  and  prayed  that  something  might 
be  said  or  sung  in  the  service  of  the  morrow  that 
would  prepare  the  way  for  such  a  conversation. 

David  felt  decidedly  out  of  place  Sunday 
evening  as  he  took  a  seat  in  the  back  part  of  the 
room,  in  the  least  conspicuous  corner  he  could 
find. 

They  were  singing  when  he  entered.     He 


HERZENRUHE.  255 

recognized  the  tune.  It  was  the  one  he  had 
heard  at  Chattanooga — "Nearer,  my  God,  to 
Thee."  It  seemed  to  bring  the  whole  scene 
before  him — the  sunrise — the  vast  concourse  of 
people,  and  the  earnestness  that  thrilled  every 
soul. 

At  the  close  of  the  song,  another  was  an- 
nounced in  a  voice  that  he  thought  he  recog- 
nized. He  leaned  forward  to  make  sure.  Yes, 
he  had  been  correct.  It  was  Hewson  Raleigh's — 
one  of  the  keenest,  most  scholarly  lawyers  at 
the  bar,  and  a  man  he  met  daily. 

He  was  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  beating  time 
with  his  left  hand,  as  he  led  the  tune  with  his 
strong  tenor  voice.  He  sang  as  if  he  heartily 
enjoyed  it,  and  meant  every  word  and  note. 

David  moved  over  to  make  room  for  a  new- 
comer. From  his  changed  position  he  could  see 
a  number  of  people  he  recognized :  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Marion,  Lois  Denning,  and  the  Courtney  sisters. 
Bethany  was  seated  at  the  piano. 

Presently  the  door  from  the  pastor's  study 
opened,  and  Dr.  Bascom  came  in  and  took  his 
seat  beside  the  president  of  the  League. 

"Look  at  Dr.  Bascom,"  he  heard  some  one 


256  IN  LrKAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

behind  him  whisper  to  her  escort.  "What  do 
you  suppose  could  have  happened?  His  face 
actually  shines." 

David  had  been  watching  it  ever  since  he 
took  his  seat.  It  was  a  benign,  pleasant  face  at 
all  times,  but  just  now  it  seemed  to  have  caught 
the  reflection  of  a  great  light.  Everybody  in  the 
room  noticed  it.  David,  quick  to  make  Old 
Testament  comparisons,  thought  of  Moses  com- 
ing down  the  mountain  from  a  talk  with  God. 
He  felt  as  positively,  as  if  he  had  seen  for  him- 
self, that  the  minister  had  just  risen  from  his 
knees,  and  had  come  in  among  them,  radiant 
from  the  unspeakable  joy  of  that  communion. 
Every  one  present  began  to  feel  its  influence. 

The  prophecy  Dr.  Bascom  had  chosen  for 
reading,  was  one  they  had  heard  many  times, 
but  it  seemed  a  new  proclamation  as  he  deliv- 
ered it: 

"Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is 
given." 

Something  of  the  gladness  that  must  have 
rung  through  the  song  of  the  heralds  on  that 
first  Christmas  night,  seemed  to  thrill  the  min- 
ister's voice  as  he  read. 

Then  he  turned  to  Luke's  account  of  the 


HERZENRUHE.  257 

shepherds  abiding  in  the  fields  by  night — that 
beautiful  old  story,  that  will  always  be  new  un- 
til the  stars  that  still  shine  nightly  over  Bethle- 
hem shall  have  ceased  to  be  a  wonder. 

As  the  service  progressed,  David  began  to 
feel  that  he  was  not  in  a  church,  but  that  he 
had  stumbled  by  mistake  on  some  family  re- 
union. Everything  was  so  informal.  They  told 
the  experiences  of  the  past  week,  the  blessings 
and  the  trials  that  had  come  to  them  since  they 
had  last  seen  each  other. 

Sometimes  they  stood;  oftener  they  spoke 
from  where  they  sat,  just  as  they  would  have 
talked  in  some  home-circle. 

And  through  it  all  they  seemed  to  recognize 
a  Divine  presence  in  the  room,  to  whom  they 
spoke  at  intervals  with  reverence,  with  humility, 
but  with  the  deepest  love  and  gratitude. 

As  David  listened  to  voice  after  voice  testi- 
fying to  a  personal  knowledge  of  Christ  as  a 
Savior,  he  was  forced  to  admit  to  himself  that 
they  possessed  something  to  which  he  was  an 
utter  stranger. 

When  Hewson  Raleigh  arose,  David  listened 
with  still  greater  interest.  He  knew  him  to  be 
an  eloquent  lawyer,  and  had  heard  him  a  number 
17 


258  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

of  times  in  rousing  political  speeches,  and  once 
in  a  masterly  oration  over  the  Nation's  dead  on 
Memorial-day.  He  knew  what  a  power  the  man 
had  with  a  jury,  and  he  knew  what  respect  even 
his  enemies  had  for  his  unimpeachable  veracity 
and  honor. 

Raleigh  stood  up  now,  quiet  and  unimpas- 
sioned  as  when  examining  a  witness,  to  give  his 
own  clear,  direct,  lawyer-like  testimony. 

He  said:  "There  may  be  some  here  to-night 
to  whom  the  prophecy  that  was  read,  and  the 
story  of  the  Advent,  are  only  of  historic  interest. 
To  such  I  do  not  come  with  the  sayings  of  the 
prophets,  or  to  repeat  the  tidings  of  the  shep- 
herds, or  to  ask  any  one's  credence  because  the 
apostles  and  martyrs  and  Christians  of  all  times 
believed.  I  tell  you  that  which  I  myself  do 
know.  The  Holy  Spirit  has  led  me  to  the  Christ. 
If  he  were  only  an  ethical  teacher,  if  he  were  not 
the  Son  of  God,  he  could  not  have  entered  into 
my  life,  and  transformed  it  as  he  has  done..  My 
star  of  hope  is  far  more  real  to  me  than  the 
stars  outside  that  lighted  my  way  to  this  room 
to-night.  I  have  knelt  at  his  feet  and  wor- 
shiped, and  gone  on  my  way  rejoicing.  I 
know  that  through  the  sacrifice  he  offered  on 


HERZENRUHE.  259 

Calvary  my  atonement  is  made,  and  I  stand 
before  the  Father  justified,  through  faith  in  his 
only-begotten.  The  voice  that  bears  witness 
to  this  may  not  be  audible  to  you;  but  though 
all  the  voices  in  the  universe  were  combined 
to  dispute  it,  they  would  be  as  nothing  to  that 
still,  small  voice  within  that  whispers  peace — 
the  witness  of  the  Spirit." 

On  the  Day  of  Atonement  Marion  and  Crag- 
more  had  not  been  half  so  surprised  at  hearing 
the  League  benediction  intoned  by  rabbi  and 
choir,  as  was  David  when  the  familiar  blessing 
of  the  synagogue  was  repeated  in  unison  by 
those  of  another  faith: 

"The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee.  The 
Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be 
gracious  unto  thee.  The  Lord  lift  up  his  counte- 
nance upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace." 

David  had  heard  so  much  of  Methodists  that 
he  had  expected  noisy  demonstrations  and 
great  exhibitions  of  emotion.  He  had  found 
enthusiastic  singing  and  hearty  responses  of 
amen  during  the  prayers;  but  while  the  prevail- 
ing spirit  seemed  one  of  intense  earnestness, 
it  had  the  depth  and  quiet  of  some  great,  resist- 
less under-current. 


260  IN  LEAGUE  WITH 


He  slipped  out  of  the  room  after  the  bene- 
diction, fearful  of  meeting  curious  glances.  A 
member  of  the  reception  committee  managed 
to  shake  hands  with  him,  but  his  friends  had  not 
discovered  his  attendance. 

Two  things  followed  him  persistently.  The 
expression  of  Dr.  Bascom's  face,  and  Hewson 
Raleigh's  emphatic  "I  know." 

He  took  the  last  train  out  to  Hillhollow, 
wishing  he  had  staid  away  from  the  League 
meeting.  It  haunted  him,  and  made  him  un- 
comfortable. 

He  walked  the  floor  until  long  after  mid- 
night. Even  sleep  brought  him  no  rest,  for  in 
his  dreams  he  was  still  groping  blindly  in  the 
dark  for  something  —  he  knew  not  what  —  but 
something  wise  men  had  found  long  years  ago 
in  a  starlit  manger,  earth's  "Herzenruhe." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
ON   CHRISTMAS    EVE. 

T  was  Christmas  eve,  and  nearing  the 
time  for  Bethany  to  leave  the  office. 
She  stood,  with  her  wraps  on,  by  one 
of  the  windows,  waiting  for  Mr.  Ed- 
munds to  come  back.  She  had  a  message  to 
deliver  before  she  could  leave,  and  she  expected 
him  momentarily. 

In  the  street  below  people  were  hurrying 
by  with  their  arms  full  of  bundles.  She  was 
impatient  to  be  gone,  too.  There  were  a  great 
many  finishing  touches  for  her  to  give  the  tall 
tree  in  the  drawing-room  at  home. 

She  had  worked  till  the  last  moment  at  noon, 
and  locked  the  door  regretfully  on  the  gayly- 
decked  room,  with  its  mingled  odors  of  pine 
boughs-  and  oranges,  always  so  suggestive  of 
Christmas  festivities. 

While  she  stood  there,  she  heard  steps  in 

the  hall. 

261 


262  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"O,  I  thought  you  were  Mr.  Edmunds,"  she 
exclaimed,  as  David  entered.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  been  at  the  office  that  day.  "I  have 
a  message  for  him.  Have  you  seen  him  any- 
where ?" 

"No,"  answered  David.  "I  have  just  come 
in  from  Hillhollow.  Marta  has  telegraphed 
that  she  is  coming  home  on  the  night  train,  so  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  accept  Jack's  invitation. 
She  had  not  expected  to  come  at  all  during  the 
holidays;  but  one  of  the  teachers  was  called 
home,  and  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  accompany  her,  although  she  can  only  stay 
until  the  end  of  the  week." 

As  Bethany  expressed  her  regrets  at  Jack's 
disappointment,  David  picked  up  a  small  pack- 
age that  lay  on  his  desk. 

"O,  the  expressman  left  that  for  you  a  little 
while  ago,"  she  said.  "Your  Christmas  is  be- 
ginning early." 

She  turned  again  to  the  window,  peering 
out  through  the  dusk,  while  David  lighted  the 
gas-jet  over  his  desk,  and  proceeded  to  open  the 
package. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  here  was  a  time, 
while  all  the  world  was  turning  towards  the 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  263 

Messiah  on  this  anniversary  eve  of  his  coming, 
that  she  might  venture  to  speak  of  him.  Before 
she  could  decide  just  how  to  begin,  David  spoke 
to  her: 

"Do  you  care  to  look,  Miss  Hallam  ?  I  would 
like  for  you  to  see  it." 

He  held  a  little  silver  case  towards  her,  on 
which  a  handsome  monogram  was  heavily 'en- 
graved. 

As  she  touched  the  spring  it  flew  open,  show- 
ing an  exquisitely  painted  miniature  on  ivory. 

She  gave  an  involuntary  cry  of  delight. 

"What  a  beautiful  girl,"  she  exclaimed.  "It 
is  one  of  the  loveliest  faces  I  ever  saw."  She 
scrutinized  it  carefully,  studying  it  with  an  art- 
ist's evident  pleasure.  Then  she  looked  up  with 
a  smile. 

"This  must  be  the  one  Rabbi  Barthold  spoke 
to  me  about,"  she  said.  "He  said  that  she  was 
rightly  named  Esther,  for  it  means  star,  and  her 
great,  dark  eyes  alwavs  made  him  think  of  star- 
light." 

"How  long  ago  since  he  told  you  that?"  asked 
David  in  surprise. 

"When  we  first  began  taking  Hebrew  les- 
sons," she  answered. 


264  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"And  did  he  tell  you  we  are  bethrothed?" 

"Yes." 

David  felt  annoyed.  He  knew  intuitively 
why  his  old  friend  had  departed  so  from  his 
usual  scrupulousness  regarding  a  confidence. 
He  had  intimated  to  David,  when  he  had  first 
met  Miss  Hallam,  that  she  was  an  unusually 
fascinating  girl,  and  he  feared  that  their  growing 
friendship  might  gradually  lessen  the  young 
man's  interest  in  Esther,  whom  he  saw  only  at 
long  intervals,  as  she  lived  in  a  distant  city. 

"I  had  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of  telling 
you  myself,"  said  David. 

"I  have  often  wondered  what  she  is  like," 
answered  Bethany,  "and  I  am  glad  to  have  this 
opportunity  of  offering  my  congratulations.  I 
wish  that  she  lived  here  that  I  might  make  her 
acquaintance.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  seen 
a  face  that  has  captivated  me  so." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  David,  flushing  with 
pleasure.  A  tender  smile  lighted  his  eyes  as  he 
glanced  at  the  miniature  again  before  closing 
the  case.  "She  will  come  to  Hillhollow  in  the 
spring,"  he  added  proudly. 

They  heard  Mr.  Edmunds's  voice  in  the  hall. 
Bethanv  held  out  her  hand. 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  265 

"I  shall  not  see  you  again  until  next  week, 
I  suppose,"  she  said,  "so  let  me  wish  you  a  very 
happy  Christmas." 

He  kept  her  hand  in  his  an  instant  as  he 
repeated  her  greeting,  then,  looking  earnestly 
down  into  the  upturned  face,  added  gently  in 
Hebrew,  the  old  benediction — "Peace  be  upon 
you." 

It  was  quite  dark  when  she  stepped  out  into 
the  streets.  She  thought  of  David  and  Esther 
all  the  way  home. 

At  first  she  thought  of  them  with  a  tender 
smile  curving  her  lips,  as  she  entered  unselfishly 
into  the  happiness  of  the  little  romance  she  had 
discovered. 

Then  she  thought  of  them  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  and  a  chill  in  her  heart,  as  some  little  waif 
might  stand  shivering  on  the  outside  of  a  win- 
dow, looking  in  on  a  happy  scene,  whose  warmth 
and  comfort  he  could  not  share.  The  joy  of  her 
own  betrothal,  and  the  desolation  that  ended  it, 
surged  back  over  her  so  overwhelmingly  that  she 
was  in  no  mood  for  merry-making  when  she 
reached  home. 

She  longed  to  slip  quietly  away  to  her  own 
room,  and  spend  the  evening  in  the  dark  with 


266  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

her  memories.  She  had  to  wait  a  moment  on 
the  threshold  before  she  could  summon  strength 
enough  to  go  in  cheerfully. 

Mrs.  Marion  and  Lois  were  in  the  dining- 
room  helping  the  sisters  decorate  the  long  table, 
where  the  children  were  to  be  served  with  supper 
immediately  on  their  arrival. 

"Frank  and  Jack  have  gone  out  in  a  sleigh 
to  gather  them  up,"  said  Mrs.  Marion.  "They  '11 
soon  be  here,  so  you  '11  not  have  much  time  to 
dress." 

"All  right,"  responded  Bethany,  "I  '11  go  in 
a  minute.  Mr.  Herschel  can't  come,  so  you  may 
as  well  take  off  one  plate." 

"But  George  Cragmore  can,"  said  Miss  Caro- 
line, pausing  on  her  way  to  the  kitchen.  "I  asked 
him  this  morning,  and  forgot  to  say  anything 
about  it." 

Then  she  trotted  out  for  a  cake-knife,  bliss- 
fully unconscious  of  the  grimace  Bethany  made 
behind  her  back. 

"O  dear!"  she  exclaimed  to  Lois,  "Miss  Caro- 
line means  all  right,  but  she  is  a  born  match- 
maker. She  has  taken  a  violent  fancy  to  Mr. 
Cragmore,  and  wants  me  to  do  the  same.  She 
thinks  she  is  so  very  deep,  and  so  very  wary  in 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  267 

the  way  she  lays  her  plans,  that  I  '11  never  sus- 
pect; but  the  dear  old  soul  is  as  transparent  as 
a  window-pane.  I  can  see  every  move  she 
makes." 

""What  about  Mr.  Crag-more?"  asked  Lois. 
"Is  he  conscious  of  her  efforts  in  his  behalf?" 

"O  no.  He  thinks  that  she  is  a  dear,  motherly 
old  lady,  and  is  always  paying  her  some  flatter- 
ing attention.  It  is  well  worth  his  while,  for  she 
makes  him  perfectly  at  home  here,  keeps  his 
pockets  full  of  goodies,  as  if  he  were  an  over- 
grown boy  (which  he  is  in  some  respects),  and 
treats  him  with  the  consideration  due  a  bishop. 
She  is  always  going  out  to  Clarke  Street  to 
hear  him  preach,  and  quoting  his  sermons  to 
him  afterwards.  There  he  is  now!"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  two  short  rings  and  one  long  one 
were  given  the  front  door-bell. 

"So  he  even  has  his  especial  signals," 
laughed  Lois.  "'He  must  be  on  a  very  familiar 
footing,  indeed." 

"He  got  into  that  habit  when  he  first  started 
to  calling  by  to  take  me  up  to  the  Hebrew  class," 
she  explained.  "Miss  Caroline  encouraged  him 
in  it." 


268  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

Just  then  Miss  Caroline  came  hurrying 
through  the  room  to  receive  him. 

"Bethany,  dear,"  she  said  in  an  excited 
stage  whisper,  "you  'd  better  run  up  the  back 
stairs.  And  do  put  on  your  best  dress,  and  a 
rose  in  your  hair,  just  to  please  me.  Now,  won't 
you?" 

Bethany  and  Lois  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed. 

"I  'd  like  to  shock  her  by  going  in  just  as  I 
am,"  said  Bethany;  "but  as  it's  Christmas-time 
I  suppose  I  must  be  good  and  please  everybody." 

It  was  not  long  before  a  great  stamping  of 
many  snowy  little  feet  announced  the  arrival 
of  the  Christmas  guests. 

They  came  into  the  house  with  such  rosy, 
happy  faces,  that  no  one  thought  of  the  patched 
clothes  and  ragged  shoes. 

"Dear  hearts,  I  wish  we  could  have  a  hun- 
dred instead  of  ten,"  sighed  Miss  Harriet,  as 
she  helped  seat  them  at  the  table.  "They  look  as 
though  they  never  once  had  enough  to  eat  in  all 
their  little  lives." 

"They  shall  have  it  now."  declared  Miss 
Caroline  heartily,  "if  George  Cragmore  does  n't 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  269 

keep  them  laughing  so  hard  they  can't  eat  Just 
hear  the  man!" 

She  had  never  seen  him  in  such  a  gay  humor, 
or  heard  him  tell  such  irresistibly  funny  stories 
as  the  ones  he  brought  out  for  the  entertainment 
of  these  poor  little  guests,  who  had  never  known 
anything  but  the  depressing  poverty  of  the  most 
wretched  homes. 

Mr.  Marion  was  the  good  St.  Nicholas  who 
had  found  them,  and  spirited  them  away  to  this 
enchanted  land;  but  Cragmore  was  the  Aladdin 
who  rubbed  his  lamp  until  their  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  the  wonderful  scenes  he  conjured  up 
for  them. 

When  the  dinner  was  over,  and  everything 
had  been  taken  off  the  table  but  the  flowers  and 
candles  and  bonbon  dishes,  he  lifted  the  smallest 
child  of  all  from  her  high  chair,  and  took  her  on 
his  knee. 

With  his  arms  around  her,  he  began  to  tell 
the  story  of  the  first  Christmas.  His  voice  was 
very  deep  and  sweet,  and  he  told  it  so  well  one 
could  almost  see  the  dark,  silent  plains  and  the 
white  sheep  huddled  together,  and  the  shepherds 
keeping  watch  by  night. 


270  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

One  by  one  the  children  slipped  down  from 
their  chairs,  and  crowded  closer  around  him. 

He  had  never  preached  before  to  such  a 
breathless  audience,  and  he  had  never  put  into 
his  sermons  such  gentleness  and  pathos  and 
power. 

He  was  thinking  of  their  poor,  neglected 
lives,  and  how  much  they  needed  the  love  of 
One  who  could  sympathize  to  the  utmost,  be- 
cause he  Avas  born  among  the  lowly,  and  "was 
despised  and  rejected  of  men."  When  he  had 
finished,  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  with  the 
intensity  of  his  feeling,  and  the  children  were 
very  quiet. 

The  little  girl  on  his  lap  drew  a  long  breath. 
Then  she  smiled  up  in  his  face,  and,  putting  her 
arm  around  his  neck,  leaned  her  head  against 
him. 

There  was  a  bugle-call  from  the  library,  and 
Jack  led  the  children  away  to  listen  to  an 
orchestra  composed  of  boys  from  the  League, 
who  had  volunteered  their  services  for  the  oc- 
casion. 

While  they  were  playing  some  old  carols, 
Miss  Caroline  called  Mr.  Cragmore  aside.  "I  've 
sent  Bethany  to  light  the  candles  on  the  tree  in 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  271 

the  drawing-room,"  she  said.  "May  be  you  can 
help  her." 

Lois  heard  the  whisper,  and  his  hearty  re- 
sponse, "May  the  saints  bless  you  for  that  now!" 
She  hurried  into  the  hall  to  intercept  Bethany. 

"Ah  ha,  my  lady,"  she  said  teasingly, 
"you  need  n't  be  putting  everything  off  onto 
poor  Aunt  Caroline.  I  've  just  now  discovered 
that  she  is  only  somebody's  cat's-paw." 

Bethany  was  irritated.  She  had  been  greatly 
touched  by  the  winning  tenderness  of  Crag- 
more's  manner  with  the  children.  If  there  had 
been  no  memory  of  a  past  love  in  her  life,  she 
could  have  found  in  this  man  all  the  qualities 
that  would  inspire  the  deepest  affection;  but 
with  that  memory  always  present,  she  resented 
the  slightest  word  that  hinted  of  his  interest  in 
her. 

She  made  Lois  go  with  her  to  light  the  tapers, 
and  that  mischief-loving  girl  thoroughly  enjoyed 
forestalling  the  little  private  interview  Miss 
Caroline  had  planned  for  her  protege. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  evening,  while  the 
children  were  romping  around  the  dismantled 
tree,  that  Cragmore  announced  his  intention  of 
leaving. 


272  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  promised  to  talk  at  a  Hebrew  mission 
to-night,"  he  explained,  in  answer  to  the  remon- 
strances that  greeted  him  on  all  sides. 

"By  the  way,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  intended 
to  tell  you  about  that,  and  I  must  stay  a  moment 
longer  to  do  it." 

He  hung  his  overcoat  on  the  back  of  a  tall 
chair,  and  folded  his  arms  across  it. 

"The  other  day  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  Russian  Jew,  Sigmund  Ragolsky.  He  has  a 
remarkable  history.  He  married  an  English 
Jewess,  was  a  rabbi  in  Glasgow  for  a  long  time, 
and  is  now  a  Baptist  preacher,  converted  after  a 
fourteen  years'  struggle  against  a  growing  be- 
lief in  the  truth  of  Christianity.  The  story  of 
his  life  sounds  like  a  romance.  He  was  so  strictly 
orthodox  that  he  would  not  strike  a  match  on 
the  Sabbath.  He  would  have  starved  before 
he  would  have  touched  food  that  had  not  been 
prepared  according  to  ritual.  He  is  here  for 
the  purpose  of  establishing  a  Hebrew  mission. 
You  should  see  the  people  who  come  to  hear 
him.  They  are  nearly  all  from  that  poor  class 
in  the  tenement  district.  One  can  hardly  be- 
lieve they  belong  to  the  same  race  with  Rabbi 
Barthold  and  his  cultured  friends.  Ragolsky, 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  273 

though,  is  a  scholar,  and  I  should  like  to  hear 
the  two  men  debate.  He  says  the  Reform  Jews 
are  no  Jews  at  all — that  they  are  the  hardest 
people  in  the  world  to  convert,  because  they  look 
for  no  Messiah,  accept  only  the  Scripture  that 
suits  them,  and  are  so  well  satisfied  with  them- 
selves that  they  feel  no  need  of  any  mediator 
between  them  and  eternal  holiness.  They  feel 
fully  equal  to  the  task  of  making  their  own  atone- 
ment. Rabbi  Barthold  says  that  the  orthodox 
are  narrow  fanatics,  and  that  the  majority  of 
them  live  two  lives — one  towards  God,  of  slavish 
religious  observances;  the  other  towards  man, 
of  sharp  practices  and  double-dealing.  I  want 
you  to  hear  Ragolsky  preach  some  night.  I  '11 
tell  you  his  story  some  other  time." 

"Tell  me  this  much  now,"  said  Bethany,  as 
he  picked  up  his  overcoat  again;  "did  he  have  to 
give  up  his  family  as  Mr.  Lessing  did?" 

"No,  indeed.  Happily  his  wife  and  children 
were  converted  also.  He  had  two  rich  brothers- 
in-law  in  Cape  Colony,  Africa,  who  cut  them  off 
without  a  shilling,  but  he  is  not  grieving  over 
that,  I  can  assure  you.  O,  he  is  so  full  of  his 
purpose,  and  is  such  a  happy  Christian!  If  we 

were  all  as  constantly  about  the  Master's  busi- 
18 


274  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

ness  as  he  is,  the  millennium  would  soon  be 
here." 

Afterward,  when  the  children  had  been 
taken  home,  and  the  feast  and  the  tree,  and  the 
people  who  gave  them,  were  only  blissful  mem- 
ories in  their  happy  little  hearts,  Bethany  stood 
by  the  window  in  her  room,  holding  aside  the 
curtain. 

Everything  outside  was  covered  with  snow. 
She  was  thinking  of  Ragolsky  and  Lessing,  and 
wondering  which  of  the  two  fates  would  be 
David  Herschel's,  if  he  should  ever  become  a 
Christian. 

Would  Esther's  love  for  her  people  be 
stronger  than  her  love  for  him? 

She  knew  how  tenaciously  the  women  of 
Israel  cling  to  their  faith,  yet  she  felt  that  it 
was  no  ordinary  bond  that  held  these  two  to- 
gether. 

Looking  up  beyond  the  starlighted  heavens, 
Bethany  whispered  a  very  heartfelt  prayer  for 
David  and  the  beautiful,  dark-eyed  girl  who 
was  to  be  his  bride;  and  like  an  answering  omen 
of  good,  over  the  white  roofs  of  the  city  came 
the  joyful  clangor  of  the  Christmas  chimes. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  "  WATCH-NIGHT  "  CONSECRATION. 

HE  office  work  for  the  old  year  was 
all  done.     Mr.  Edmunds  had  locked 
his   desk    and    gone    home.      David 
would  soon   follow.     He  had  only 
some  private  correspondence  to  finish. 

Bethany  sat  nervously  assorting  the  letters 
in  the  different  pigeon-holes  of  her  desk. 
Ninety-five  was  slipping  out  into  the  eternities. 
It  had  brought  her  a  prayed-for  opportunity; 
it  was  carrying  away  a  far  different  record  from 
the  one  she  had  planned.  She  felt  that  she 
could  not  bear  to  have  it  go  in  that  way,  yet  an 
unaccountable  reticence  sealed  her  lips. 

David  had  been  in  the  office  very  little  dur- 
ing the  past  week,  only  long  enough  to  get  his 
mail.  This  afternoon  he  had  a  worried,  pre- 
occupied look  that  made  it  all  the  harder  for 
Bethany  to  say  what  was  trembling  on  her  lips. 

She  heard  him  slipping  the  letter  into  the 

275 


276  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

envelope.  He  would  be  gone  in  just  another 
moment.  Now  lie  was  putting  on  his  overcoat. 
O,  she  must  say  something!  Her  heart  beat 
violently,  and  her  face  grew  hot.  She  shut  her 
eyes  an  instant,  and  sent  up  a  swift,  despairing 
appeal  for  help. 

David  strolled  into  the  room  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  and  stood  beside  her  table. 

""Well,  the  old  year  is  about  over,  Miss  Hal- 
lam,"  he  said,  gravely.  "It  has  brought  me  a 
great  many  unexpected  experiences,  but  the 
most  unexpected  of  all  is  the  one  that  led  to  our 
acquaintance.  In  wishing  you  a  happy  new 
year,  I  Avant  to  tell  you  what  a  pleasure  your 
friendship  has  been  to  me  in  the  old." 

Bethany  found  sudden  speech  as  she  took 
the  proffered  hand. 

"And  I  want  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Herschel,  that 
I  have  not  only  been  wishing,  but  praying  ear- 
nestly, that  in  this  new  year  you  may  find  the 
greatest  happiness  earth  holds — the  peace  that 
comes  in  accepting  Christ  as  a  Savior." 

He  turned  from  her  abruptly,  and,  with  his 
hands  thrust  in  his  overcoat  pockets,  began  pac- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  with  quick,  excited 
strides. 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      277 

"You,  too!"  he  cried  desperately.  "I  seem 
to  be  pursued.  Every  way  I  turn,  the  same  thing 
is  thrust  at  me.  For  weeks  I  have  been  fighting 
against  it — O,  longer  than  that — since  I  first 
talked  to  Lessing.  Then  there  was  Dr.  Trent's 
death,  and  that  nurse's  prayer,  and  the  League 
meeting  Frank  Marion  persuaded  me  into  at- 
tending. Cragmore  has  talked  to  me  so  often, 
too.  I  can  answer  arguments,  but  I  can't  an- 
swer such  lives  and  faith  as  theirs.  Yesterday 
morning  I  had  a  letter  from  Lee — little  Lee 
Trent — thanking  me  for  a  book  I  had  sent  him, 
and  even  that  child  had  something  to  say.  He 
told  me  about  his  conversion.  Last  night  curi- 
osity led  me  down  town  to  hear  a  Russian  Jew 
preach  to  a  lot  of  rough  people  in  an  old  ware- 
house by  the  river.  His  text  was  Pilate's  ques- 
tion, '"What  shall  I  do  then  with  Jesus,  which  is 
called  Christ  ?'  It  was  n't  a  sermon.  There 
was  n't  a  single  argument  in  it.  It  was  just  a 
tragically-told  story  of  the  Nazarene's  trial  and 
death  sentence — but  he  made  it  such  a  personal 
matter.  All  last  night,  and  all  day  to-day  those 
words  have  tormented  me  beyond  endurance, 
'What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do  with  this 
Jesus  called  Christ!'  " 


278  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

He  kept  on  restlessly  pacing  back  and  forth 
in  silence.     Then  he  broke  out  again: 

"I  saw  a  man  converted,  as  you  call  it,  down 
there  last  night.  He  had  been  a  rough,  blas- 
phemous drunkard  that  I  have  seen  in  the  police 
courts  many  a  time.  I  saw  him  fall  on  his  knees 
at  the  altar,  groaning  for  mercy,  and  I  saw  him, 
when  he  stood  up  after  a  while,  with  a  face  like 
a  different  creature's,  all  transformed  by  a  great 
joy,  crying  out  that  he  had  been  pardoned  for 
Christ's  sake.  I  just  stood  and  looked  at  him, 
and  wondered  which  of  us  is  nearer  the  truth. 
If  I  am  right,  what  a  poor,  deluded  fool  he  is! 
But  if  he  is  right,  good  God- 
He  stopped  abruptly. 

"Mr.  Herschel,"  said  Bethany,  slowly,  "if 
you  were  convinced  that,  by  going  on  some  cer- 
tain pilgrimage,  you  could  find  Truth,  but  that 
the  finding  would  shatter  your  belief  in  the  creed 
you  cling  to  now,  would  you  undertake  the 
journey?  Which  is  stronger  in  you,  the  love  for 
the  faith  of  your  fathers,  or  an  honest  desire  for 
Truth,  regardless  of  long-cherished  opinion?" 
For  a  moment  there  was  no  answer.  Then 
he  threw  back  his  shoulders  resolutely. 

"I  would  take  the  journey,"  he  said,  with 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      279 

decision.  "If  I  am  wrong  I  want  to  know  it." 
Bethany  slipped  a  little  Testament  out  of  one 
of  the  pigeon-holes,  and  handed  it  to  him, 
opened  at  the  place  where  the  answer  to  Thomas 
was  heavily  underscored: 

"Jesus  saith  unto  him,  I  am  the  way  and 
the  truth  and  the  life;  no  man  cometh  unto  the 
Father  but  by  me." 

"Follow  that  path,"  she  said,  simply.  "The 
door  has  never  been  opened  to  you,  because  you 
have  never  knocked.  You  have  no  personal 
knowledge  of  Christ,  because  you  have  never 
sought  for  it.  He  has  never  revealed  himself 
to  you,  because  you  have  never  asked  him  to 
do  so." 

He  turned  to  her  impatiently. 

"Could  you  honestly  pray  to  Confucius?" 
he  asked;  "or  Isaiah,  or  Elijah,  or  John  the 
Baptist?  This  Jewish  teacher  is  no  more  to  me 
than  any  other  man  who  has  taught  and  died. 
How  can  I  pray  to  him,  then?" 

Bethany  fingered  the  leaves  of  her  little 
Testament,  her  heart  fluttering  nervously. 

"I  wish  you  would  take  this  and  read  it," 
she  said.  "It  would  answer  you  far  better  than 
I  can." 


280  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

"I  have  read  it,"  he  replied,  "a  number  of 
years  ago.  I  could  see  nothing  in  it." 

"O,  but  you  read  it  simply  as  a  critic,"  she 
answered.  "See!"  she  cried  eagerly,  turning 
the  leaves  to  find  another  place  she  had  marked. 
"Paul  wrote  this  about  the  children  of  Israel: 
'Their  minds  were  blinded:  for  until  this  day 
remaineth  the  same  veil'  (the  one  told  about 
in  Exodus,  you  know)  'untaken  away,  in 
the  reading  of  the  Old  Testament;  which  veil 
is  done  away  in  Christ.  But  even  unto  this  day, 
when  Moses  is  read,  the  veil  is  upon  their 
heart.  Nevertheless,  when  it  shall  turn  to  the 
Lord,  the  veil  shall  be  taken  away.' ' 

"Where  does  it  say  that?"  he  asked,  incred- 
ulously. He  took  the  book,  and  turning  back  to 
the  first  of  the  chapter,  commenced  to  read. 

The  great  bell  in  the  court-house  tower  be- 
gan clanging  six. 

"I  must  go,"  he  said;  "but  I'll  take  this 
with  me  and  look  through  it  another  time." 

"I  wish  you  would  come  to  the  watch-meet- 
ing to-night,"  she  said,  wistfully.  "It  is  from 
ten  until  midnight.  All  the  Leagues  in  the 
city  meet  at  Garrison  Avenue." 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      281 

He  slipped  the  book  in  his  pocket,  and  but- 
toned up  his  overcoat.  A  sudden  reserve  of 
manner  seemed  to  envelop  him  at  the  same  time. 

"No,  thank  you,"  he  answered,  drawing  on 
his  gloves.  "I  have  an  informal  invitation  from 
some  friends  in  Hillhollow  to  dance  the  old  year 
out  and  the  new  year  in." 

His  tone  seemed  so  flippant  after  the  recent 
depth  of  feeling  he  had  betrayed,  that  it  jarred 
on  Bethany's  earnest  mood  like  a  discord.  He 
moved  toward  the  door. 

"No  matter  where  you  may  be,"  she  said  as 
he  opened  it,  "I  shall  be  praying  for  you." 

After  he  had  gone,  Bethany  still  sat  at  her 
desk,  mechanically  assorting  the  letters.  She 
was  so  absorbed  in  her  thoughts  that  she  had 
quite  forgotten  it  was  time  to  go  home. 

The  door  opened,  and  Frank  Marion  came 
in.  He  was  followed  by  Cragmore,  who  was 
going  home  with  him  to  dinner. 

"All  alone?"  asked  Mr.  Marion  in  surprise. 
"Where  's  David?  We  dropped  in  to  invite 
him  around  to  the  watch-meeting  to-night." 

"He  has  just  gone,"  answered  Bethany.  "I 
asked  him,  but  he  declined  on  account  of  a  pre- 


282  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

vious  engagement.  O,  Cousin  Frank,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "I  do  believe  he  is  almost  convinced 
of  the  trnth  of  Christianity!" 

She  repeated  the  conversation  that  had  just 
taken  place. 

"He  has  been  fighting  against  that  convic- 
tion for  some  time,"  answered  Mr.  Marion.  "I 
had  a  talk  with  him  last  week." 

"What  do  you  suppose  Rabbi  Barthold 
would  say  if  Mr.  Herschel  should  become  a 
Christian?"  asked  Bethany. 

"Ah,  I  asked  the  old  gentleman  that  very 
question  yesterday,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Cragmore. 
"It  astounded  him  at  first.  I  could  see  that  the 
mere  thought  of  such  apostasy  in  one  he  loves 
as  dearly  as  his  young  David,  wounded  him 
sorely.  O,  it  grieved  him  to  the  heart!  But 
he  is  a  noble  soul,  broad-minded  and  generous. 
He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  when  he 
finally  spoke  I  could  see  what  an  effort  the  words 
cost  him: 

"  'David  is  a  child  no  longer,'  he  said,  slowly. 
'He  has  a  right  to  choose  for  himself.  I  would 
rather  read  the  rites  of  burial  over  his  dead  body 
than  to  see  him  cut  loose  from  the  faith  in  which 
I  have  so  carefully  trained  him;  but  no  matter 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      283 

what  course  he  pursues,  I  am  sure  of  one  thing, 
his  absolute  honesty  of  purpose.  Whatever  he 
does,  will  be  from  a  deep  conviction  of  right.  I, 
who  was  denounced  and  misunderstood  in  my 
youth  because  I  cast  aside  the  weight  of  ortho- 
doxy that  bound  me  down  spiritually,  should  be 
the  last  one  to  condemn  the  same  independence 
of  thought  in  others.' ' 

"Herschel  would  have  less  opposition  to 
contend  with  than  any  Jew  I  know,"  remarked 
Mr.  Marion. 

"That  little  sister  of  his  would  be  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise,  and,  I  think,  would  soon 
follow  his  example." 

Bethany  thought  of  Esther,  but  said  nothing. 

"We  '11  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer  to- 
night," said  Cragmore,  who  had  been  appointed 
to  lead  the  meeting. 

"Yes,"  answered  Marion,  clapping  his  friend 
en  the  shoulder.  Then  he  quoted  emphatic- 
ally: "  'And  this  is  the  confidence  that  we  have 
in  Him,  that  if  we  ask  anything  according  to 
his  will,  he  heareth  us.' ' 

"Let 's  ask  him  right  now!"  cried  Cragmore, 
in  his  impetuous  way. 

He  slipped  the  bolt  in  the  dx>or,  and  kneeling 


284        '  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

beside  David's  desk,  began  praying  for  his  ab- 
sent friend  as  he  would  have  pleaded  for  his 
life.  Then  Marion  followed  with  the  same  un- 
faltering earnestness,  and  after  his  voice  ceased, 
Bethany  took  up  the  petition. 

"Nobody  need  tell  me  that  those  prayers  are 
not  heard,"  exclaimed  Marion,  triumphantly,  as 
he  arose  from  his  knees.  "I  know  better.  Come, 
Bethany;  if  you  are  ready  to  go,  we  will  walk 
as  far  as  the  avenue  with  you." 

As  they  went  down-stairs  together,  he  kept 
singing  softly  under  his  breath,  "Blessed  be  the 
name,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord !" 

By  ten  o'clock  the  League-room  of  the  Garri- 
son Avenue  Church  was  crowded. 

George  Cragmore  had  prepared  a  carefully- 
studied  address  for  the  occasion;  but  during  the 
half  hour  of  the  song  service  preceding  it,  while 
he  studied  the  faces  of  his  audience,  his  heart 
began  to  be  strangely  burdened  for  David  and 
his  people.  He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand 
a  moment,  and  sent  up  a  swift  prayer  for  guid- 
ance, before  he  arose  to  speak. 

"My  friends,"  he  said  in  his  deep,  musical 
voice,  "I  had  thought  to  talk  to  you  to-night  of 
'spiritual  growth,'  but  just  now,  as  I  have  been 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      285 

sitting  here,  God  had  put  another  message  into 
my  mouth.  We  are  all  children  of  one  Father 
who  have  met  in  this  room,  and  for  that  reason 
you  will  bear  with  me  now  for  the  strangeness 
of  the  questions  I  shall  ask,  and  the  seeming 
harshness  of  my  words.  This  is  a  time  for  honest 
self-examination.  I  should  like  to  know  how 
many,  during  the  year  just  gone,  have  contrib- 
uted in  any  way  to  the  support  of  Home  and 
Foreign  Missions?" 

Every  one  in  the  room  arose. 

"How  many  have  tried,  by  prayer,  daily  in- 
fluence, and  direct  appeal,  to  bring  some  one  to 
Christ?" 

Again  every  one  arose. 

"How  many  of  you,  during  the  past  year, 
have  spoken  to  a  Jew  about  your  Savior,  or  in 
any  way  evinced  to  any  one  of  them  a  personal 
interest  in  the  salvation  of  that  race?" 

Looks  of  surprise  were  exchanged  among 
the  Leaguers,  and  many  smiled  at  the  question. 
Only  two  arose,  Mr.  Marion  and  Bethany  Hal- 
lam. 

When  they  had  taken  their  seats  again  there 
was  a  moment  of  intense  silence.  The  earnest 
solemnity  of  the  minister  was  felt  by  every  one 


286  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

present.     They  waited  almost  breathlessly  for 
what  was  coming. 

"There  is  a  young  Jew  in  this  city  to-night 
whose  heart  is  turning  lovingly  towards  your 
Savior  and  mine.  I  have  come  to  ask  your 
prayers  in  his  behalf,  that  the  stumbling-blocks 
in  his  way  may  be  removed.  But  it  is  not  for 
him  alone  my  soul  is  burdened.  I  seem  to  hear 
Isaiah's  voice  crying  out  to  me,  'Comfort  ye, 
comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your  God.  Speak 
ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and  cry  unto  her 
that  her  warfare  is  accomplished,  that  her  in- 
iquity is  pardoned.'  And  then  I  seem  to  hear 
another  voice  that  through  the  thunderings  of 
Sinai  proclaims,  'Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  wit- 
ness/ Ah!  the  Christian  Church  has  been 
weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.  It 
must  read  a  terrible  handwriting  on  the  wall 
in  the  fact  that  Israel's  eyes  have  not  been 
opened  to  the  fulfillment  of  prophecy.  For  had 
she  seen  Christ  in  the  daily  life  of  every  fol- 
lower since  he  was  first  preached  in  that  little 
Church  at  Antioch,  we  would  have  had  a  race  of 
Sauls  turned  Pauls!  We  are  Christ's  witnesses 
to  all  men.  Do  all  men  see  Christ  in  us,  or  only 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      287 

a  false,  misleading  image  of  him?  He  cherished 
no  racial  prejudices.  He  turned  away  from  no 
man  with  a  look  of  scorn,  or  a  cold  shrug  of  in- 
difference. He  drew  no  line  across  which  his 
sympathies  and  love  and  helping  hands  should 
not  reach.  When  we  do  these  things,  are  we 
not  bearing  false  witness  to  the  character  of  him 
Avhose  name  we  have  assumed,  and  the  emblem 
of  whose  cross  we  wear?  I  can  not  believe  that 
any  of  us  here  have  been  willfully  neglectful, 
of  this  corner  of  the  Lord's  vineyard.  It  must 
be  because  your  hearts  and  hands  were  full  of 
other  interests  that  you  have  been  indifferent 
to  this." 

Then  he  told  them  of  Lessing  and  Ragolsky 
and  David,  and  called  on  them  to  pray  that  his 
friend  might  find  the  light  he  was  seeking.  A 
dozen  earnest  prayers  were  offered  in  quick  suc- 
cession, and  every  heart  went  out  in  sympathy 
to  this  young  Jew,  whom  they  longed  to  see 
happy  in  the  consciousness  of  a  personal  Savior. 

David  had  not  gone  out  to  Hillhollow.  He 
dined  at  the  restaurant,  and  was  just  starting 
leisurely  down  to  the  depot  when  he  found  that 
his  watch  told  the  same  time  as  when  he  had 


288  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

looked  at  it  an  hour  before.  It  must  have  been 
stopped  even  some  time  before  that.  At  any 
rate  it  had  made  him  too  late  for  the  train.  The 
next  one  would  not  leave  till  nine  o'clock.  He 
stood  on  a  corner  debating  how  to  pass  the  time, 
and  finally  concluded  to  go  back  to  the  office  for 
a  magazine  he  had  borrowed  from  Jlabbi  Bart- 
hold,  and  take  it  home  to  him. 

His  steps  echoed  strangely  through  the  de- 
serted hall  as  he  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  office. 
He  lighted  the  gas,  and  sat  down  to  look  through 
the  papers  on  his  desk  for  the  magazine.  But 
when  he  had  found  it,  he  still  sat  there  idly, 
drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the  rounds  of  his 
chair. 

After  awhile  he  took  Bethany's  Testament 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  began  to  read.  It  was 
marked  heavily  with  many  marginal  notes  and 
underscored  passages,  that  he  examined  with  a 
great  deal  of  curiosity.  Beginning  with  Mat- 
thew's account  of  the  wise  men's  search,  he  read 
steadily  on  through  the  four  Gospels,  past  Acts, 
and  through  some  of  Paul's  epistles.  It  was 
after  ten  by  the  office  clock  when  he  finished  the 
letter  to  the  Hebrews. 

He  put  the  book  down  with  a  groan,  and, 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      289 

folding  his  arms  on  the  desk,  wearily  laid  his 
head  on  them. 

Just  then  Bethany's  parting  words  echoed 
in  his  ears,  "No  matter  where  you  may  be,  I 
shall  be  praying  for  you." 

It  had  irritated  him  at  the  moment.  Now 
there  was  comfort  in  the  thought  that  she  might 
be  interceding  in  his  behalf.  He  loved  the  faith 
of  his  fathers.  He  was  proud  of  every  drop  of 
Israelitish  blood  that  coursed  through  his  veins. 
He  felt  that  nothing  could  induce  him  to  re- 
nounce Judaism — nothing!  Yet  his  heart  went 
out  lovingly  toward  the  Christ  that  had  been 
so  wonderfully  revealed  to  him  as  he  read. 

The  conviction  was  slowly  forcing  itself  on 
his  mind  that  in  accepting  him  he  would  not  be 
giving  up  Judaism,  that  he  would  only  be  ac- 
cepting the  Messiah  long  promised  to  his  own 
people — only  believing  fulfilled  prophecy. 

He  wanted  him  so — this  Christ  who  seemed 
able  to  satisfy  every  longing  of  his  heart,  which 
just  now  was  'hungering  and  thirsting  after 
righteousness;'  this  Christ  who  had  so  loved  the 
world  that  he  had  given  himself  a  willing  sac- 
rifice to  make  propitiation  for  its  sins — for  his — 

David  Herschel's  sins. 

19 


290  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  old  questions  of  the  Trinity  and  the  In- 
carnation came  back  to  perplex  him,  and  he  put 
them  resolutely  away,  remembering  the  words 
that  Bethany  had  quoted,  that  when  Israel 
should  turn  to  the  Lord,  the  veil  should  be  taken 
from  its  heart. 

Suddenly  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  with  his 
hands  clasped  above  his  head,  cried  out:  "O, 
Thou  Eternal,  take  away  the  veil!  Show  me 
Christ!  I  will  give  up  anything — everything 
that  stands  in  the  way  of  my  accepting  him,  if 
thou  wilt  but  make  him  manifest!" 

He  threw  himself  on  his  knees  in  an  agony 
of  supplication,  and  then  rising,  walked  the 
floor.  Time  and  again  he  knelt  to  pray,  and 
again  rose  in  despair  to  pace  back  and  forth. 

He  hardly  knew  what  to  expect,  but  Paul's 
conversion  had  been  attended  by  such  miracu- 
lous manifestations  that  he  felt  that  some  great 
revelation  must  certainly  be  made  to  him. 

Opening  the  little  Testament  at  random,  he 
saw  the  words,  "If  thou  shalt  confess  with  thy 
mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  shalt  believe  in  thine 
heart  that  God  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead, 
thou  shalt  be  saved." 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      291 

"I  do  believe  it,"  he  said  aloud.  "And  I  will 
confess  it  the  first  opportunity  I  have.  Yes,  I 
will  go  right  now  and  tell  Uncle  Ezra — no  mat- 
ter what  it  may  cause  him  to  say  to  me." 

He  looked  at  the  clock  again.  The  old  year 
was  almost  gone.  It  was  nearly  midnight. 
Kabbi  Barthold  would  be  asleep.  Then  he  re- 
membered the  watch-night  service  Bethany 
had  asked  him  to  attend.  Cragmore  and  Marion 
would  be  there.  He  would  go  and  tell  them. 

He  started  rapidly  down  the  street,  saying 
to  himself:  "How  queer  this  seems!  Here  am  I, 
a  Jew,  on  my  way  to  confess  before  men  that 
I  believe  a  Galilean  peasant  is  the  Son  of  God. 
I  do  n't  understand  the  mystery  of  it,  but  I  do 
believe  in  some  way  the  promised  atonement 
has  been  made,  and  that  it  avails  for  me." 

He  clung  to  that  hope  all  the  way  down  to 
the  Church.  It  was  growing  stronger  every 
step. 

Bethany  had  risen  to  take  her  place  at  the 
piano  at  the  announcement  of  another  hymn, 
when  the  door  opened  and  David  Herschel  stood 
in  their  midst.  Not  even  glancing  at  the  startled 
members  of  the  League,  he  walked  across  the 


292  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

room  and  held  out  one  hand  to  Cragmore  and 
the  other  to  Marion.  His  voice  thrilled  his  list- 
eners with  its  intensity  of  purpose. 

"I  have  come  to  confess  before  you  the  be- 
lief that  your  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  and  that 
through  him  I  shall  be  saved." 

Then  a  look  of  happy  wonderment  shone  in 
his  face,  as  the  dawning  consciousness  of  his  ac- 
ceptance became  clearer  to  him. 

"Why,  I  am  saved!  Now!"  he  cried  in  joy- 
ful surprise. 

Glad  tears  sprang  to  many  eyes,  and  only  one 
exclamation  could  express  the  depth  of  Frank 
Marion's  gratitude — an  old-fashioned  shout  of 
"Glory  to  God!"  Yes,  an  old,  old  fashion — for 
it  came  in  when  "the  morning  stars  sang  to- 
gether, and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

"O,  I  must  tell  the  whole  world!"  cried 
David. 

"Come!"  exclaimed  Cragmore,  turning  to 
those  around  him,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
David's  shoulder;  "here  is  another  Saul  turned 
Paul.  Who  such  missionaries  of  the  cross  as 
these  redeemed  sons  of  Abraham?  Leagued 
with  such  an  Israel,  we  could  soon  tell  all  the 
world.  Who  will  join  the  alliance?" 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      293 


In  answer  they  came  crowding  around 
David,  with  warm  hand-clasps  and  sympathetic 
words,  till  the  bells  all  over  the  city  began  toll- 
ing the  hour  of  midnight. 

At  a  word  from  Cragmore  they  knelt  in  the 
final  prayer  of  consecration. 

There  was  a  deep  silence.  Then  the  leader's 
voice  began: 

"The  untried  paths  of  the  new  year  stretch 
out  into  unknown  distances.  But  trusting  in  an 
Allwise  Father,  in  a  grace-giving  Christ,  and  the 
sustaining  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  how 
many  will  sing  with  me: 


T=r 


"Where   He  leads    me 


will     fol  -  low, 


* —    V 


Where   He    leads    me 


will 


fol  -  low, 


Where   He  leads    me 


will     f°l  -  l°w- 


» 


I'll  go  with  Him,  with  Him  all 


294  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

The  melody  arose,  sweet  and  subdued,  as 
every  voice  covenanted  with  his. 

"But  some  of  us  may  have  planned  out  cer- 
tain paths  for.  our  own  feet,  that  lead  alluringly 
to  ease  and  approbation.  Think !  God  may  call 
us  into  obscure  bypaths,  into  ways  that  lead  to 
no  earthly  recompense,  to  lowly  service  and  un- 
requited toil.  Can  we  still  sing  it?  Let  us 
wait.  Let  us  consider  and  be  very  sure." 

In  the  prayerful  silence,  David  thought  of 
his  profession  and  the  hopes  of  the  great  suc- 
cess that  it  was  his  ambition  to  attain.  Could 
he  give  it  up,  and  spend  his  life  in  an  unappreci- 
ated ministry  to  his  people?  He  wavered.  But 
just  then  he  had  a  vision  of  the  Christ.  He 
seemed  to  see  a  footsore,  tired  man,  holding  out 
his  hands  in  blessing  to  the  motley  crowds  that 
thronged  him ;  and  again  he  saw  the  same  patient 
form  stumbling  wearily  along  under  a  heavy 
beam  of  wood,  scourged,  mocked,  spit  upon, 
nailed  to  the  cross,  for — him! 

David  shuddered,  and  he  took  up  the  re- 
frain :  "I  '11  go  with  Him,  with  Him,  all  the 
way." 

"It  may  be  that,  so  far  as  ambition  and  per- 
sonal plans  are  concerned,  we  are  willing  to  put 


A  WATCH-NIGHT  CONSECRATION.      295 

ourselves  entirely  in  God's  hands;  but  suppose 
he  should  call  for  our  hearts'  best  beloved,  are 
we  willing  to  make  of  this  hour  a  Mount 
Moriah,  on  which  we  sacrifice  our  Isaacs — our 
all?  Do  we  consecrate  ourselves  entirely?  Will 
we  go  with  him  all  the  way,  no  matter  through 
what  dark  Gethsemane  he  may  see  best  to  lead 
us?" 

Again  David  wavered  as  Esther's  beautiful 
face  came  before  him. 

"O  God!  anything  but  that!"  he  cried  out 
passionately. 

Cragmore  felt  him  trembling,  and,  reaching 
out,  clasped  his  hand,  and  prayed  silently  that 
strength  might  be  given  him  to  make  the  con- 
secration complete. 

"I  '11  go  with  Him,  with  Him,  all  the  way!" 

David's  voice  sung  it  unfalteringly.  When 
they  arose  the  tears  were  streaming  down  his 
cheeks,  but  a  great  light  was  in  his  face,  and  a 
great  peace  in  his  heart.  The  Christ  had  been 
revealed  to  him.  A  new  life  and  a  new  year 
had  been  born  together. 

No,  the  story  is  not  done,  but  the  rest  of  it 
can  not  be  written  until  it  has  first  been  lived. 


296  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

In  God's  good  time  the  shuttles  of  his  pur- 
poses shall  weave  these  life-webs  to  the  finish. 
Some  threads  may  cross  and  twine,  some  be 
widely  parted,  and  some  be  snapped  asunder. 
Who  can  tell?  The  new  year  has  only  begun. 

But  we  know  that  all  things  work  together 
for  good  to  those  who  give  themselves  into  the 
eternal  keeping,  and — aGod  's  in  his  heaven." 


SILENT  KEYS. 

1STCE,  in  a  shadowy  old  cathedral,  a 
young  girl  sat  at  the  great  organ, 
playing  over  and  over  a  simple  mel- 
ody for  a  group  of  children  to  sing. 
They  were  rehearsing  the  parts  they  were  to 
take  in  the  Christmas  choruses. 

It  was  not  long  before  every  voice  had 
caught  the  sweet  old  tune  of  "J  oy  to  the  World," 
and  as  their  little  feet  pattered  down  the  solemn 
aisles,  the  song  was  carried  with  them  to  the 
work  and  play  of  the  streets  outside. 

As  the  girl  turned  to  follow,  she  found  the 
old  white-haired  organist,  a  master-musician, 
standing  beside  her. 

"Why  did  you  not  strike  all  the  keys,  little 
sister?"  he  asked.  "You  have  left  silent  some 
of  the  sweetest  and  deepest.  Listen!  This  is 
what  you  should  have  put  into  your  song." 

As  he  spoke,  his  powerful  hands  touched  the 
key-board,  till  the  great  cathedral  seemed  to 

297 


298  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

tremble  with  the  mighty  symphony  that  filled 
it — "Joy  to  the  world,  the  Lord  is  come!" 

High,  sweet  notes,  like  the  matin-songs  of 
sky-larks,  fluttered  away  from  his  touch,  and 
went  winging  their  flight — up  and  up — beyond 
all  mortal  hearing.  Down  the  deep,  full  chords 
and  majestic  octaves  rolled  the  triumphal  glad- 
ness. Every  key  seemed  to  find  a  voice,  as  the 
hands  of  the  old  musician  swept  through  the 
variations  of  "Antioch." 

Tears  filled  the  young  girl's  eyes,  and  when 
he  had  finished  she  said  sadly:  "Ah,  only  a 
master-hand  could  do  that — bring  out  the  varied 
tones  of  those  silent  keys,  and  yet  through  it  all 
keep  the  thread  of  the  song  clear  and  unbroken. 
All  those  divine  harmonies  were  in  my  soul  as 
I  played,  yet  had  I  tried  to  give  expression  to 
them,  I  might  have  wandered  away  from  the 
simple  motif  that  I  would  have  the  children 
remember  always.  In  trying  to  span  those 
fuller  chords  you  strike  so  easily,  or  in  reaching 
always  for  the  highest  notes,  I  would  have  failed 
to  impress  them  with  the  part  they  are  to  take 
in  the  choruses,  and  they  would  not  have  gone 
out  as  they  did  just  now,  singing  their  joy  to  the 
world." 


SILENT  KEYS.  299 

Maybe  some  such  master  may  turn  the  pages 
of  this  story,  and  feel  the  same  impatience  at 
its  incompleteness.  Here  in  this  place  he  would 
have  added,  with  strong  touches,  many  a  con- 
vincing argument.  There  he  would  have  spoken 
with  the  voice  of  a  sage  or  prophet,  and  he  may 
turn  away,  saying:  "Why  did  you  not  strike  all 
the  keys,  little  sister?  You  have  left  silent  some 
of  the  sweetest  and  deepest." 

The  answer  is  the  same.  Only  a  master- 
hand  can  sweep  the  gamut  of  history  and  human 
weaknesses  and  dogmas  and  creeds,  touch  the 
discordant  elements  of  controversy  and  criticism 
in  all  their  variations,  and  at  the  same  time  keep 
the  simple  theme  constantly  throbbing  through 
them,  so  strong  and  full  and  clear  it  can  never 
be  forgotten. 

The  purpose  of  this  story  is  accomplished 
if  it  has  only  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
League  to  a  neglected  duty,  and  struck  a  higher 
key-note  of  endeavor.  But  the  League  must  not 
stop  with  that. 

There  is  only  one  song  that  will  ever  bring 
universal  joy  to  this  old,  tear-blinded  world,  and 
that  is  that  the  Lord  is  come,  and  that  he  is  risen 
indeed  in  the  lives  of  his  followers. 


300  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

True,  the  veriest  child  may  lisp  it;  but  the 
League  should  not  be  content  simply  to  do  that. 
It  should  be  the  master-musician,  so  familiar 
with  the  great  complexity  of  human  doubts  and 
longings,  that  it  will  know  just  what  chord  to 
touch  in  every  heart  it  is  striving  to  help. 

Go  back  to  the  days  of  the  dispersion,  and 
follow  this  Ishmael  through  his  almost  limitless 
desert  of  persecution — his  hand  against  every 
man  because  every  man's  hand  was  against  him. 

Put  yourself  in  his  place  until  your  vision 
grows  broad  and  your  sympathy  deep.  Chafe 
against  his  limitations.  Stumble  over  his  ob- 
stacles, and  in  so  doing  learn  where  best  to  place 
the  stepping-stones. 

Dig  down  through  the  strata  of  tradition, 
below  all  the  manifold  ceremonies  of  his  formal 
worship,  until  you  come  to  the  bed-rock  of  prin- 
ciple underlying  them. 

When  you  have  thus  studied  Judaism,  its 
prophets,  its  priesthood,  its  patriots — when  you 
have  traced  its  sinuous  path  from  Abraham's 
tent  to  the  Temple  gates,  and  then  followed  its 
diverging  lines  on  into  almost  every  hamlet  of 
both  hemispheres,  you  will  have  learned  some- 


SILENT  KEYS.  301 

thing  more  than  the  history  of  Judaism.  You 
will  have  read  the  story  of  the  whole  race  of 
Adam,  and  you  will  have  fitted  yourself  far 
better  to  serve  humanity. 

Christ  reached  his  hearers  through  his  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  them.  He  never  talked  to 
shepherds  of  fishing-nets,  nor  to  vine-dressers 
of  flocks.  He  gave  the  same  water  of  life  to 
the  woman  at  Jacob's  well  that  he  bestowed  on 
the  ruler  who  came  to  him  by  night.  Yet  how 
differently  he  presented  it  to  the  ignorant  Sa- 
maritan and  the  learned  Nicodemus. 

To  this  end,  then,  study  these  creeds  and 
systems;  for  instance,  the  unity  of  God,  clung 
to  alike  by  the  Hebrew  persistently  reiterating 
his  Shemang,  and  the  Moslem  crying  "God  is 
God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet!" 

Follow  this  belief  in  the  Unity,  as  it  goes 
deeply  channeling  its  way  through  centuries  of 
Semitic  thought,  until  it  enters  the  very  life- 
blood.  You  can  trace  its  influence  even  down 
into  the  early  Christian  Church,  in  the  hot  dis- 
putes of  Arius  and  his  followers,  at  the  Council 
of  Nicea. 

Not  until  you  comprehend  how  idolatrous 


302  IN  LEAGUE  WITH  ISRAEL. 

the  worship  of  the  Trinity  seems  to  a  Jew,  can 
you  understand  what  a  stumbling-block  lies  be- 
tween him  and  the  acceptance  of  his  Messiah. 

You  will  find  this  study  of  Judaism  reaching 
out  like  a  banyan-tree,  striking  root  and  branch- 
ing again  and  again  in  so  many  different  places 
that  it  seems  that  it  must  certainly,  by  some  one 
of  its  manifold  ramifications,  shadow  every 
great  problem  and  people. 

In  the  first  conception  of  this  story  it  was 
purposed  to  place  considerable  emphasis  on  a 
number  of  things  that  have  been  left  untouched, 
especially  the  colonization  schemes  of  the  phi- 
lanthropic Barons  Hirsch  and  De  Rothschild, 
and  the  prophecies  concerning  the  return  of  the 
Jews  to  Palestine. 

But  prophecy,  while  always  a  most  interest- 
ing and  profitable  subject  for  research  and  study, 
leads  into  an  unmapped  country  of  speculation. 
Many  an  enthusiast,  not  recognizing  that  on 
God's  great  calendar  a  thousand  years  are  but 
as  a  day,  has  attempted  to  solve  the  mysteries 
of  Revelations  by  the  same  numerical  system 
with  which  he  calculates  his  assets  and  liabili- 
ties. As  we  examine  this  subject,  we  must  not 
forget  the  vast  difference  between  our  finite 


SILENT  KEYS.  303 

yardsticks,  and  the  reed  of  the  angel  who  meas- 
ured the  city. 

God  grant  that,  as  the  tree  thrown  into  the 
stream  of  Marah  changed  its  bitter  waters  into 
wholesome,  life-giving  sweetness,  so  this  study 
of  Israel,  earnestly  and  honestly  pursued,  may 
turn  all  bitterness  of  prejudice  into  the  broad, 
sweet  spirit  of  true  brotherhood! 


A     000132294    0 


